


What I Wouldn't Give to See You Safe, One More Time

by Gizmodo



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Distraught Haught, Drug Abuse, F/F, Kidnapping, Language, Nicole's POV, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protag on a Dark Path, Psychological Torture, References to Depression, Serial Killers, Somewhat Macabre, Wynaught Brotp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 21:32:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 40,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15324783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gizmodo/pseuds/Gizmodo
Summary: The one about Waverly Earp being kidnapped by a serial killer Revenant and how Nicole’s relentless searching for her love causes her to lose sight of who she is and what she stands for.





	1. Haught Intuition

**Author's Note:**

> Holy demons, Batman. First fic for WayHaught! Woohoo! But boy, it has been a-WHILE since I’ve written. Seriously, it took a good five minutes to clean the cobwebs out of my brain and off of my keyboard. Anywho, Wynonna Earp has got me going crazy with fic ideas and it’s time to finally let them out. I’m a glutton for angst and Distraught Haught just will not leave me alone. So… the intention of this fic is to (in my headcanon) push Haught as far as she can go - and then some - and see exactly what she’ll do for love.
> 
> Now, I’m hoping to ride this high of creativity for a bit, but fair warning, I’m absolute shit at finishing fics. Like. Seriously horrible. I’m gonna try something new, though, and write shorter chapters, more frequently, and HOPEFULLY that will keep this little choo-choo train a-chuggin’. On the plus side, I’ve got some serious motivation because I just watched episode 1 of season three and it’s fantastic and I am S.T.O.K.E.D!!
> 
> I also got a lot of motivation from Kat’s Insta post today. I’ve been in a rut lately, putting my life on hold for others, and I really needed to hear/see what she had to say. “If it’s meant to be, it will happen. But not magically, without any involvement from you. If it’s meant to happen it will happen because you have put your heart and soul into it and made it happen, one way or another.”
> 
> Okay, enough about me. We all know you came for WayHaught, so let’s get this show on the road!

 

**=== Prologue ===**

 

Nicole Haught has always gone after what she wants, regardless of the obstacles in her way. Her grandfather instilled in her early on in her childhood that, if it’s meant to happen, it will happen, but not without your heart and soul put into it. He used to sit her on his knee and say, “Kiddo, you get from life what you put into it, and if you put your most into anything you do, I guarantee you will never be unsatisfied - even if you don’t always succeed. As long as you give it your all, you will always be able to hold your head up high and proud.”

It was a big concept for a little kid, but Nicole will always be grateful to him for that lesson. How could she not be? Of course there had been stumbling blocks, but because of it she: graduated top of her class at the Academy, was now a deputy sheriff on the fast track to becoming the next sheriff of Purgatory, has an amazing girlfriend in Waverly Earp, and she’s finally found a family whom she loves and loves her in return (despite all the demons, drama, and dysfunction).

Life is pretty damn good for Nicole Haught.

 

 

Right up until it isn’t.

 

 

**=== Day 1 ===**

 

“Hey baby, it’s me. Again. For the fourth time. I know you’re probably working with Wynonna and the guys right now, and I’m probably just bein’ paranoid, but… I’m startin’ to get real worried. You were supposed to be at Shorty’s an hour ago and well…” Nicole huffs into her phone in exasperation, unease coiling loosely in her stomach, “I’ve just got a funny feelin’ and I need to know you’re okay. Just call me back soon? Please? I love you, Waves.” 

Tapping the End Call button a _little_ more forcefully than necessary, Nicole tosses her phone onto the bar top in frustration. The clatter it makes against the solid wood would worry her more of the condition of her phone… if she wasn’t already completely preoccupied with worry about her possibly M.I.A. girlfriend.

With each passing minute and nothing from Waverly, the anxiety creeps further and further up through her chest and neck, making her throat feel tight and slimy. She just wishes she knew what was going on so this damnable feeling of disquiet would go away because Officer Nicole Haught of the Purgatory Sheriff’s Department does _not_ deal well with the unknown. Never has. And yes, the irony of that and what her job is - and all it entails in this cursed town - is not lost on her.

The longer she sits there, though, the more worried she becomes that something is not right.

She’s never been able to fully articulate what the feeling is exactly, but anytime she’s felt like there’s a hook in her heart and electricity in her fingertips, well… it - whatever _it_ may be - has never turned out well.

When she was a kid, her grandpa would refer to this feeling as the trademark “Haught intuition”. It was a point of pride in the family. According to him, it’s what made them such good cops. And so, he’d tell her story after story about it, and then he’d say, “Listen to it, kiddo. Trust it. It’s your body and your mind tellin’ you that there’s something more to what’s around you than what you’re seein’.”

And right now? Nicole could hear her grandpa’s deep, rumbling voice as if he was sitting right next to her telling her to, “Trust the feeling, kiddo. Trust it and act.”

But there was nothing to act on - yet.

And it’s not as if this hasn’t happened before - albeit, not for as long, but still.

Sometimes when Waverly gets involved in the demon hunting with her sister and Dolls, the outside world ceases to exist and any concept of time seems to escape them. Which means that when Nicole isn’t with them, she ends up making many, many phone calls before she gets anyone.

This is not so unusual.

Just because she isn’t getting through to Waverly now, doesn’t mean that Waverly is in trouble. And just because she’s got a bad feeling, doesn’t mean that it’s associated with Waverly, either.

It could be indigestion. Or a bad case of sixth sense that Wynonna is going to do something crazy and/or stupid. Or it could just be straight up paranoia.

Whatever the case may be, it doesn’t automatically mean that Waverly is not okay. 

But it also doesn’t automatically mean that Waverly is not _not_ okay.

Christ.

Nicole vigorously rubs her face in her hands before groaning a long, “Fuuuucckkkk…” in the dark escape of her palms. She’s torn between trusting her gut feeling and trusting the predictable unpredictability of Waverly Earp. It’s becoming a conundrum Nicole could really stand to live without.

“Not a thing I thought you’d say outside of the bedroom there, Haughtstuff.”

Nicole jerks a bit at the voice she’s not expecting (but really should have been - it is after 4pm at Shorty’s, after all) coming from behind her. Dropping her hands to the bar top, she turns her head slightly to take in the dirt-covered boots, ripped jeans, and filthy black leather jacket of one Wynonna “Goddamn” Earp.

One Wynonna “Goddamn” Earp who definitely saw Nicole jump and is taking way too much pleasure in it, if the shiteating grin she’s sporting is anything to go by.

Rolling her eyes, Nicole gives a small smile before raising a finger to Doc at the other end of the bar. Perhaps this stupid feeling really was just a sixth sense that Wynonna was coming. It wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen in this town.

“Hi Wynonna."

At Nicole’s nod of invitation, Wynonna unceremoniously plops down in the seat next to Nicole, causing the stool to screech across the floor and bang against the bar. Typical Wynonna. She, too, raises a finger to Doc and he nods to them while continuing to talk to the other patrons at the end of the bar before getting to work on their drinks.

The other woman shrugs out of her jacket then turns to Nicole with an expectant look. Nicole raises an eyebrow in question; there is no way she is going to be the one to blink here - Wynonna is like a shark in chummy water when she wants to be. Which is almost always. They may be on pretty good terms now, but Nicole is no fool. She isn’t going to give anything away until she knows what Wynonna wants. She does _not_ need to give the eldest Earp anymore ammunition for teasing.

They both stare at each other that way for a few seconds before Wynonna finally breaks and waves her hands around with a drawn out, “Wellll……?” 

Nicole sighs, “Well what, Wynonna?”

A mug of beer and a tumbler of whiskey are set down in front of her and Wynonna, respectively, before the brunette has a chance to answer. Nicole nods in thanks to Doc and takes a sip of her beer, trying to wash away the slimy feeling still lingering in her throat, as Wynonna picks up her glass and knocks back the entire contents in one go. 

Smacking her lips, Wynonna slams the glass back onto the bar. “Ahhh..." she pats her stomach in contentment, "Just what the doctor ordered.”

Doc’s mustache twitches once before he drawls, “I did no such thing.” 

Nicole nearly chokes on beer foam as she snorts into her drink. Wynonna shoots her a glare at the outburst while Doc just smirks in that way of his. Nicole coughs a little and wipes off her upper lip. She says, “Sorry, sorry… It’s just that you definitely walked into that one.”

“That’s not the only thing Earp’s walked into today,” snarks Dolls as he saunters up from behind them. He leans against the counter on Nicole’s other side, grinning like a cat that ate the canary… which is definitely not something Nicole is used to. In fact, this may be the longest she’s ever seen Dolls maintain a smile. Huh. She’ll have to share this with Waverly later so they can talk about it.

Meanwhile, Wynonna groans and hides her head under her arms on the bar top. Doc chuckles at the display and hangs his hands from the front of his belt.

“And what else, pray tell, did Miss Earp here walk into?”

The normally stoic agent leans in towards them and stage-whispers, “The rear end of a Hellbeast," If possible, Dolls’ grin grows even bigger. (Nicole will definitely need to talk to Waverly about this later.), "And she more ran into it than walked. Needless to say, it was a surprise to all involved.”

And yes, she may regret it later based on the poisonous look Wynonna is sending her way, but Nicole can’t help but give a big guffaw because that is literally the most ridiculous and the most Wynonna thing she’s heard all day.

It takes Nicole a solid two minutes before she can get her laughing somewhat under control (and even that’s a struggle - the mental image of Wynonna running into a demon’s ass keeps popping into her head unbidden). As she settles, though, she notices that Wynonna is still glowering and now has a fresh whiskey in front of her. Based on Doc’s grimace, it’s one of many that Nicole’s missed during her little laughing fit. Nicole shares a quick look with Doc that conveys what they’re both feeling in that moment: hopefully Wynonna isn’t about to go all… Wynonna on them. 

Before anyone can say or do anything more, though, Wynonna proceeds to slam back her latest glass of whiskey and gives a shudder. She shakes out her arms then claps her hands together and rolls her neck out.

“Okay. Now that everyone has had a good laugh at my expense, _Nicole_ ,” and yeah, Nicole does feel kind of bad about it but it was _funny._ Thankfully, Wynonna seems to be in a forgiving mood today as she says, “What’s the plan for Family Night tonight? I’m feeling nachos and board games, buttttt… I could be convinced of the merits of pizza and movies. As long as more whiskey is involved. Always more whiskey."

Wynonna pauses for a second and scans the near-empty bar, "Also, where’s Waverly? I thought she was here with you, Haughtpants; she left the Cuckoo’s Nest-” a sharp glare from Dolls has Wynonna rolling her eyes, “Sorry, _‘Headquarters’_ \- hours ago. Since it’s your day off, I thought she was skipping out on us to do… whatever it is the two of you do in the incredibly limited free time any of us ever have. Spare me the details.” 

Waverly wasn’t with them and hasn’t been for hours? That gets Nicole’s undivided attention quick as a snap. She straightens up so fast in her seat that she spills some of her beer on her pants. A small part of her brain notes that the other three have jumped to attention at her abrupt movement.

Icy cold dread trickles down her spine and she knows her sudden panic is glaringly obvious as she slowly makes eye contact with each of them. She can’t help it. The feeling she’s been trying to fight off since before Wynonna and Dolls got there has multiplied by a hundredfold in the last five seconds.

The twisting in her gut intensifies, threatening to make her violently ill, and it takes several deep breaths through her nose to fight the feeling back. Nicole clears her throat and says, "She... she never showed. I’ve called her four times. Texted her a few times, too, just in case she couldn’t pick up. I’ve gotten nothing back. I thought she was caught up with something with you guys; you know how she can get sometimes.”

Exactly three seconds of complete and utter silence follows her statement before the situation sinks in fully and all four of them are a flurry of action.

Doc charges off to the other end of the bar to grab his coat and hat and to tell his backup bartender he’s leaving. Dolls has already whipped out his phone and is currently in a terse conversation with - she assumes - Nedley, and Wynonna is staggering off her stool and trying to wrestle her coat on while simultaneously trying to call Jeremy. Nicole isn’t quite sure what to do with herself, so she does what she can to help Wynonna into her coat and keep the clearly intoxicated woman from falling over.

Doc’s hardly gone before he's already stalking back over to them - coat on and hat firmly in place - and taking Wynonna’s free arm in his. Nicole takes a moment to quickly slip her coat on and by the time she’s zipped up, Dolls has ended his phone call and is rejoining them. Wynonna hangs up shortly after and, without a word, the four of them start towards the doors of Shorty’s; Wynonna supported by Doc and Dolls on either side and Nicole leading the way.  

They all quickly pile into Dolls’ SUV and peel out onto the main road of Purgatory like a bat out of hell. Nicole’s pretty sure Dolls’ doesn’t even touch the brakes once until they’re pulling into a space right in front of the Sheriff’s office, where Nedley and Jeremy are already waiting outside for them. 

Dolls cuts the ignition and both he and Nicole jump out of the car and hurry towards the two waiting outside the door. Doc and a very green-looking Wynonna manage to shuffle over a moment later. 

Nicole fidgets as Nedley appraises the group quietly, and she’s honestly not sure she’s looking any better than Wynonna is at this point. She feels like a human livewire. Like any little thing could touch her and she’d explode. She’s not sure whether she wants to scream and punch something or cry until she passes out. She won’t do either; she knows she won’t do either. She’s got to keep a level head, for Waverly, but god, does she want to lose it right now.

She should have trusted _the feeling._

She’s thankful when Nedley finally clears his throat; it breaks whatever paralyzing spell everyone seemed to be under for those brief moments. His voice is definitely gruffer than normal and a little choked when he says, “Well, all right then. Now that you’re all here, what’s the plan?”

Nicole clenches her fists and has to fight to keep the emotions that are roiling around inside of her like a bubbling cauldron from choking her up completely, “Simple. We start from the beginning. We search every nook and cranny, go through every possible suspect, establish a timeline, find a motive… Whatever it is we need to do. We find Waverly, no matter the cost.” 

Everyone nods in agreement and Wynonna seems to manage a burst of sobriety as she pushes off of Doc. She only wavers slightly on her own and Nicole lays a gentle hand on her shoulder to keep her steady. The other woman is practically shaking out of her own skin in all her righteous fury and Nicole can only hold on and hope it doesn’t shake them both to pieces. A hardness takes root in Wynonna’s eyes as she takes another step towards the doors of the Sheriff’s department. It’s a haunted look that Nicole’s seen only a few times before, and never quite like this. It’s a look that says there will be blood in the streets when this is all over. 

Nicole slides her hand down Wynonna’s arm and grips her hand tightly, catching the brunette’s eye with a meaningful look. Wynonna squeezes her hand once and she immediately squeezes back. They’re in agreement: whatever happens, they’re in this together and they’re both all in. 

Wynonna takes a deep breath before dropping Nicole’s hand and everyone’s eyes turn to her. It takes her a moment, and it’s only through gritted teeth, but eventually Wynonna says what she needs to say, “What Nicole said. We find my sister…”

 

 

“And then we make this fucker pay.”

 

 


	2. So... This is How it Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search is proving futile. 
> 
> Tensions are running high. 
> 
> Nedley and Dolls have to make a judgement call; Nicole and Wynonna do not react well.
> 
> Who wants some whiskey?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made little edits to the aesthetics and some mistakes in the last chapter - I really should have slept first and then re-read it before posting instead of slamming the Post button at 2am, but c’est la vie. Lol. Anyway, the only “big” difference I made was that the BBD offices are now just called Headquarters (or lovingly referred to as the “Cuckoo’s Nest” by Wynonna). And that fact isn't going to stop me from posting this chapter at 5:30 in the morning after spending all night writing it. Yeah, restless brain!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, (rookie mistake) I forgot to mention that this is set a few months post-Bulshar. Nice little bit of info to know, right?
> 
> I headcanon that it takes them about a year to defeat him for good, but that his magic has been around for so long that it lingers without him. Meaning the curse isn’t broken and there are still Revenants running around the GRT.
> 
> The group hypothesizes that without Bulshar, though, the Rev-heads will stop reincarnating upon the heir’s death (since there’s no longer an active magic-user to perpetuate the curse) and if they kill the remaining ones, the Earp curse should finally break.

**=== Day 17 ===**

 

The search for Waverly is not going well. At all.

Nicole, Wynonna, Doc, Dolls, Jeremy, the entirety of the Sheriff’s Department, and dozens and dozens of volunteers have combed every inch of Purgatory and the surrounding area within a twenty mile radius - day and night - for over two weeks now and they have _nothing_ to show for it. No evidence of who took her, no clue as to where they’ve taken her, and no motive as to why.

All together, it leaves them with exactly zero possible suspects and zero possible plans except to keep searching everywhere within the area. Which, statistically speaking, will basically yield the same results as them doing nothing at this point.

Their chances of picking up any sort of trail dropped drastically two weeks ago and have just been going down every day since. Throw in all the paranormal bullshit that goes on around here and… there’s no way to know how likely it is that they’ll find her. Hell, they don’t even have a way to know if Waverly is still alive.

 _No_.

Taking a deep breath to calm the sudden galloping of her heart at the thought, Nicole breathes in through her nose and exhales slowly, re-focusing on the newest report laying on her desk.

She has to hold onto the knowledge that they still have a chance, however slim, of finding her before it’s too late. Eventually, whoever took her will make a mistake; they’ll catch a break and find something to help them figure this out. They’re Waverly’s best shot at being found and that _means_ something.

Until then, Nicole will keep doing her job and looking for her girlfriend. Even if it kills her. Which is starting to feel like a real possibility.

The incessant headache right behind her eyes that she’s had for days now is absolute murder, and, despite sitting down for work only a few minutes ago, her entire body is screaming in protest at the thought of bending over her desk to read more reports. Both are products of running on nothing but adrenaline, energy drinks, and two-hour cat naps for the past sixteen days, she’s sure, but that knowledge does nothing to actually make her _feel_ any better about it.

 _“It’s been over two weeks, Dolls! My sister is still missing and we haven’t got a goddamn_ clue _where she is, so do not tell me to fucking! CALM! DOWN!!”_

Nicole’s ears perk up at the sound of Wynonna shouting from behind the closed door across the hall, followed by the sound of something heavy crashing to the floor and the unmistakable tinkling of glass shattering on impact.

Ever since Waverly’s disappearance, it’s become more and more common to hear the Earp heir yelling and causing a scene in the station - not that anyone in town blames her (something Nicole finds awfully paradoxical because if there’s one thing she’s learned here, it’s that the townsfolk of Purgatory _live_ to blame Wynonna for any and everything) - but the sound of general destruction is new and highly alarming.

Apparently, Nedley seems to think so, too, because he pokes his head out of his office a moment later. He glares at Nicole - which is completely unfair because it’s not _her_ causing the ruckus and mayhem - and jerks his thumb to the closed door before disappearing back into his office. Fucking great.

Clenching her jaw, Nicole gets up from her desk and stiffly walks over to the door to the former BBD offices. Rapping her knuckles harshly against the glass pane, she doesn’t even give the others an opportunity to respond before she’s barging through the door and slamming it closed.

“What the _hell_ , guys?!” Nicole hisses. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest and scowls at the pair currently in a tense standoff in the middle of the room. One of the rolling carts with some of Jeremy’s lab equipment is upended between them and Nicole’s headache gives a particularly painful throb as she surveys the scene before her.

Wynonna’s knuckles are white from the grip she has on the handle of her holstered Buntline Special, and Dolls has his feet spread apart and his shoulders squared in preparation for things to get physical. It’s also obvious to Nicole that Wynonna’s managed to destroy some of Jeremy’s ongoing experiments. Hopefully, none of them were pertinent to their search for Waverly.

God. If they were, Nicole is going to tit-punch Wynonna so hard that generations of Earps to come will feel it. Call it another Earp curse, courtesy of Nicole Haught.

She feels a small twinge of guilt at the vicious thought because she doesn’t really wish any kind of additional pain on poor Alice… but the sentiment still stands.

Nicole rubs her temples, trying to alleviate some of the tension in her head, “Look, Wynonna, I get your frustration - _believe_ me -, but I really need you to stop with these outbursts. It’s putting everyone even more on edge and Nedley is breathin’ down my neck every time you do. I am stressed enough as it is without having to put out fires amongst our own team. We don’t need this right now. _I_ don’t need this right now. So, please - for all our sakes - don’t shoot Dolls, even if he probably deserves it.”

Dolls shoots Nicole an affronted look, but it seems to diffuse the ticking time bomb within Wynonna a little bit. She huffs and mutters something under her breath that Nicole thinks sounds a lot like, “needs to take the unicorn horn out of her ass”, but she does relax her stance and release her grip on Peacemaker.

“Thank you.”

Wynonna scoffs, “Anything for you, _Undersheriff Haught_.”

“Wy…”

“Whatever. Since I apparently cause too much ‘stress’ here, I’m going to go do something useful, like look for my sister. Remember her? About five foot three? Abs of steel and a megawatt smile that could blind you? Goes by the name of Waverly Earp? Yeah, she’s still missing. Not that anyone seems to care about that anymore.” Wynonna knocks her shoulder into Dolls’ on her way past and Nicole has the good sense to slide out of the way of the door before she gets bulldozed.

Wynonna is just outside the door when she shoots a dirty look over her shoulder and exits with a derisive, “You two have fun with each other.”

The glass pane rattles dangerously as the door is slammed shut for the second time in less than two minutes.

Well, shit.

Nicole’s shoulders slump and she turns from facing where Wynonna just stormed out to look at Dolls. He looks absolutely exhausted now that she’s left.

“Dolls?”

He shakes his head and sighs, bending over to collect up pieces of lab equipment that might be salvageable. It’s a few moments before he’s finally gathered the equipment back up and deposits it all on the table next to him. Nicole grabs the broom and dustpan hiding in the corner by the door and sweeps up the remaining mess in silence.

Between the two of them, the area is cleaned up in just a few minutes and Dolls gestures with his head for Nicole to join him in his office after she’s put the broom and dustpan back where they belong.

Nicole trails behind him into the small office where they both flop into chairs on opposite sides of his desk. It’s barely after ten in the morning and Nicole already feels like this day has been too long. Dolls seems to feel the same because he sags in his chair and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Headache?”

“Yeeep.” Dolls pops the _‘p’_ in a very un-Dolls like fashion, but it’s apparent that everyone isn’t quite themselves lately.

Wherever Waverly is being held, is also where everyone’s sense of normalcy is hiding. Without her, the entire world has been knocked a few degrees off-kilter. Especially, Nicole’s and Wynonna’s. It feels like her world has been completely turned upside-down and inside-out and Nicole knows Wynonna feels the same.

“Yeah, me too.” Nicole rolls her neck back and forth, trying to relieve some of the ache settling in her shoulders. “What did you say to Wynonna to set her off so badly, anyway?”

“Haught... “

“What?”

Dolls sighs and leans forward to rest his forearms on his desk. “Nicole, I need you to keep an open-mind about what I’m about to say. I need you to hear this as a professional.”

That telltale hook-in-heart, finger-tingling feeling is back. Nicole straightens in her chair and she gives the man she’s come to care for as a brother a hard look. “I make no promises.”

He steeples his hands in front of his face and bounces his fingers against his lips a few times before exhaling slowly, “Nic, Nedley and I had a long discussion and we’ve come to the conclusion that we need to call off the active search. We--”

“ _WHAT?_ !” Nicole leaps from her chair, slamming it back against the wall of the small office. Liquid fire is running through her veins. How can he possibly say that?! They are _not_ fucking giving up on Waverly.

Dolls stands, too, albeit more slowly, hands out in a placating gesture. “The town can’t go on like this, Haught. We can’t go on like this. _You and Wynonna_ can’t go on like this. The search… it’s unsustainable. We haven’t found anything and everyone is too exhausted to continue on like this.”

“So, what? That’s just it? We give _up_ ? Hold a funeral with an empty casket for another Earp sister?? NO!” Nicole slams her hands down on the desk, breathing heavy and heart beating erratically. “I refuse to believe she’s gone! I _refuse_ to give up on her!!”

“We’re not giving up on her!” In a rare fit of unrestrained frustration, his eyes flare gold and he violently swipes across his desk with his arm. He clears the desk and manages to launch his mug into the wall where it explodes in a shower of ceramic and cold coffee. The sound makes them both jump and he winces. Nicole watches as his eyes return to normal when he slowly breathes in and out once.

Sometimes, she forgets that he’s not entirely human. It’s been well over two years since he last lost control of his… emotions.

Another deep breath and he continues as if nothing has happened, “We would never give up on Waverly, Nicole. We’re just... pulling back on how many resources we’re using to search for her. There are multiple APBs out for her and her jeep, in every county within the Ghost River Triangle. Every law enforcement agency in the country has been given a Missing Person’s poster. We’re still searching, but life continues on. We can’t pause everything else indefinitely.”

Nicole gives a derisive snort. Her life doesn’t continue without Waverly, not really. “We could have, if you hadn’t told Wynonna to shoot the Clockmaker all those years ago. She wanted to keep him alive in case we ever needed him for something - something like this -, but you always know best, don’t you, Xavier?”

The little light streaming through the cracks in the window blind plays across his dark skin as the muscles in his neck and jaw tense and release over and over. Nicole knows she’s being petty and unfair by bringing that up, but it’s _Waverly_ and he’s telling her that they’re no longer going to be doing everything in their power to find her, and that’s unacceptable to her.

They glower at each other over the desk much like Wynonna and Dolls had earlier - neither one willing to concede or apologize.

Finally, Dolls drops his gaze and a rush of victory (with a touch of self-loathing) sweeps through Nicole. The standoff leaves her feeling furious and vindicated (and guilty and empty).

They stand there - Dolls’ head hanging low and resigned, Nicole still glaring - for another moment before, without another word, Nicole turns on her heel and marches out of his office, through the door that separates HQ from the bullpen, and straight to her desk.

She quickly gathers her stetson, jacket, travel mug, and phone before stomping past Nedley, who’s just stepping out of the break room.

“Whoa there. Where’s the fire, Chief?”

Nicole whips around and, with as much respect as she can muster at the moment, smiles thinly at the Sheriff. “I’m not feelin’ well and need to go home.” A brief pause. “Sir.” Promotion aside, he is still her boss.

“Oh. Well, if you need--”

“I’ll let you know. Good day, Sheriff.”

Nicole doesn’t give him time to process or stop her and, in the blink of an eye, she’s through the front doors of the station and yanking open the door of her squad car. She slips into the driver’s seat and pauses to take stock of herself.

The last fifteen minutes have left her hands shaking violently, her blood coursing with adrenaline and anger and fear. So much fear. Where was Waverly? Was she okay? How were they going to find her now??

She squeezes her fists a few times to make the shaking subside some before she turns over the engine and pulls out into traffic. First things first, she needs to find the only other person in this whole damn town that cares about Waverly as much as she does.

Nicole flips a U-turn at the first chance she gets and starts heading towards the town limits.

 

*

 

Thirty-five minutes later, Nicole pulls up to the Earp homestead. Wynonna’s blue truck is parked haphazardly near the barn and Doc’s is, blessedly, absent.

Nicole grabs her recent purchase from the passenger seat and climbs out of her car. Leaping the two-steps leading up to the porch of the Earp house, Nicole bangs on the front door and hollers, “WYNONNA! Let me in! We need to talk!”

She shifts from foot to foot as she waits impatiently for the eldest Earp. Nicole pounds on the door again and this time is rewarded with the sound of shuffling from deep within the house.

“Hold your fuckin’ horses, woman!”

The door is finally yanked open and Nicole is treated to the sight of Peacemaker shoved into her face and a very ornery Wynonna on the other end.

“Hello to you, too.”

Wynonna grunts and narrows her eyes at Nicole, Peacemaker still very much in her face. All right, Wynonna is obviously in a more foul-mood than Nicole thought she would be. It’s a good thing she had the foresight to stop by the liquor store on her way out here.

She raises both hands in front of herself and shakes the brown paper bag in her right hand, its contents sloshing around nicely.

Blue eyes slide suspiciously to the bag and then back to Nicole. “What’s in the bag?”

“Lower your weapon and I’ll share.”

Peacemaker drops slowly out of her face as Wynonna lowers her arm. She doesn’t holster the gun, but Nicole will take what she can get right now.

“Start talking, Haughtshit. And do it quickly because I’m not exactly happy with you.”

Nicole does a double-take and sputters, “Ex-- excuse me?! What did I do?”

Wynonna sneers and snatches the bagged bottle out of Nicole’s hand before holstering Peacemaker. “ _What ever did I, perfect, li’l rule-abiding Officer Haught, do?_ ” mocks Wynonna, hand held daintily in front of her chest, eyelashes fluttering. She scoffs before dropping the act. “Nedley and Dolls are calling off the search, and since neither of them seem to scratch their asses without your input these days - perks of your new promotion, right? -, it means that you had to be in on it, too. You’ve given up on Waverly just like everyone else has.” Rolling her eyes, Wynonna peeks in the bag, making a pleasantly surprised face at what she sees. “Damn, this is some good shit.”

Incensed, Nicole snatches the bottle back. “Okay, first off, _fuck you_ . I had no idea they were callin’ off the active search - that’s why I’m here at eleven in the morning with a bottle of serious booze instead of at work. I will _never_ give up lookin’ for her. Secondly, of course it’s good. You don’t think that after all these years around you, I haven’t learned what good whiskey is? Now move, Earp.”

Nicole brushes past Wynonna and moves into the living room. She stumbles unexpectedly when she gets hit with the faintest whiff of Waverly drifting down the stairs. Lemon and honeysuckle with a hint of mint barely tickles her nostrils, but it’s enough to make her lightheaded. It takes everything in her not to start bawling her eyes out right then and there.

A warm hand grips her shoulder gently and suddenly Wynonna is in her personal space. “My bad, Nic. I shouldn’t have… Look, I know you would never give up on her. You love her as much as I do and you’re nearly as bull-head. I’m just…” Her words trail off as a pained expression passes over her features.

Nicole covers Wynonna’s with her own and simply nods to the brunette, tears pricking at her eyes without her consent. No further explanation was needed. Wynonna squeezes her shoulder before pulling her hand away and starting up the stairs.

Halfway up, Wynonna looks back and gestures up the stairs. “Come on. Let’s crack open that glorious bottle of bourbon that you were so kind enough to buy.”

Climbing the stairs, Nicole tentatively follows Wynonna through the first door on the right and into a room she knows very, very well.

 _Waverly’s room_.

It’s changed so much since Nicole first saw it all those years ago. Any remaining trace of Willa had thoroughly been removed or replaced by Nicole and Waverly immediately after the defeat of Bulshar.

The most noticeable difference being the water stains in the corner where the roof and wall met were now finally covered with a new layer of wallpaper; the color a yellow so pale it was practically white. But when the sun rises in the winter, it catches the light _just_ right and the whole room glows with the softness and warmth of the fiery star that gives life to this earth.

Those are some of Nicole’s favorite mornings because the whole room makes Waverly look _so_ beautiful while she sleeps. She’s constantly in awe by the youngest Earp’s beauty - inside and out -, but those mornings… those mornings, there’s something extra to it that sucker punches Nicole right in the heart.

The room isn’t warm and glowing now, though. In fact, it’s unusually dark and Nicole’s nose itches from the slight musty smell mixed in with Waverly’s lingering scent.

A dark sheet covers the window by the bed and Wynonna is already kicked back against the pillows with Waverly’s bonus blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She pats the spot next to her wordlessly and Nicole hesitates for only a second before climbing in beside Wynonna and getting comfortable.

Peeling off the tab of wax sealing the bottle of whiskey shut, Nicole uncorks it with a satisfying “pop!” and takes a large swig before tilting the neck towards Wynonna.

Wynonna doesn’t even bother taking it from Nicole; she just wraps her hands around Nicole’s hand and the bottle and drinks and drinks and drinks. Wynonna releases her grip, essentially handing the bottle back to Nicole in the most lazy way imaginable, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

On a normal day, Nicole would be absolutely appalled by what she just witnessed Wynonna do to a 15-year old single barrel reserve, but today wasn’t a normal day, so instead, she takes a page from Wynonna’s book and chugs some of the bottle as well, the amber liquid burning its way down her throat and settling pleasantly in her stomach.

“Ha! I’m impressed. I haven’t seen you drink like that since Pussy Willows, Haughtstuff.”

Nicole gives Wynonna a rueful smile, picking a little at the remaining wax encrusted around the lip of the bottle. “Well, today seems like a good day to drink like that, don’t you think?”

“See, I told Waverly she finally picked a smart one.”

They pass the bottle back and forth in silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts.

It’s not until only a quarter of the bottle is left that Nicole breaks the silence. The alcohol has settled well and good in her bloodstream and her body feels wonderfully loose and warm, despite how heavy her heart feels.

“D’you know I’s gonna ask Waves to marry me?”

Wynonna readjusts on the bed some, causing Nicole to sink down into the pillows more. It’s so warm and comfy under the blanket with Wynonna, and her head feels so heavy. So, so heavy. Almost as heavy as her heart.

Wynonna blinks down at Nicole, her movements and speech slow but infinitely less slurred than Nicole’s own. “I know… I maybe, kinda, sorta found the ring once.”

“Hmm… Whaddya think it, h’Earp?” She can’t keep her head up any longer. Are her thoughts making her head too heavy? Nicole registers that her head has hit something but it takes her a few moments to figure out that its Wynonna’s shoulder and she’s now slumped against the other woman.

She sighs when she feels Wynonna just tilt her head against her own. “I think that… Wavely -- Wavery… ugh. My sister’d be a fool to not marry ya, Haught-tomato, even if yer a flatfoot.”

Nicole snickers, “It’z potato, ‘Nonna.”

“Whatever.”

The bottle is passed between them a few more times until Wynonna finishes off the last of the amber liquid and unceremoniously dumps the bottle onto the floor. They again lapse into silence for several long minutes, Nicole’s eyes drifting shut more and more frequently.

The urge to cry is sneaking up on her again and she sniffles softly. Gentle fingers begin to comb through her hair and Nicole knows that Wynonna would rather eat her left hand than let anyone know she could be this soft, and for that fact, she loves the prickly Earp all the more for comforting her despite that.

“... Wy, what if… whatif Waves ‘z a‘ready dead? I can’t marry her if she’s gone.”

Wynonna’s fingers only hiccup briefly before resuming their combing. “We’ll find‘er, Nicole. We’ll find her and I’ll break dis fuckin’ curse and den you’ll marry’er. Got it?”

Nodding, Nicole sinks more into the pillows and her companion. A few tears are escaping down her cheeks but her whole body is too heavy to care anymore.

“Um scared, Wy.”

Lips press against the crown of her head fleetingly, and if Nicole tries hard enough, she can imagine that they belong to another Earp.

“Me too, Nic. Me too.”

The last thing Nicole remembers before everything goes black is Wynonna pulling all four of Waverly’s blankets on top of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooo doggie. You wonderful humans know what to do in the comment section, if you are so inclined.


	3. The Demon of the Belfry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One call and the gang finally has a lead. The crime scene reveals more than what most are prepared for, though.

**=== Day 22 ===**

 

It’s an early Sunday morning when they finally get a break in the case.

The sun is barely starting to rise and Nicole is just getting out of the shower before her seven AM shift when the call comes in, her phone playing the X-Files theme incessantly on her bedside table. Wrapping herself loosely in a towel, she swipes up the device and - thanks to Waverly’s insistence on giving everyone a funny ringtone - knows without looking that it’s Dolls calling her.

Accepting the call, she puts her phone on speaker while she starts to dry herself off.  “Good mornin’, Dolls.”

He’s noticeably harried and agitated when he ignores her greeting and simply says, “Get to the station. Now.”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“We’ve found her car.” A door slamming on Dolls’ end and the sound of multiple people shuffling around in the background distract Nicole from really processing what she’s being told. (It also doesn’t help that she hasn’t slept more than three hours in the past forty-eight.)

Nicole pauses with her underwear halfway up her leg. “What car?”

“Waverly’s Jeep. It’s been found.”

It takes a second before it registers exactly what Dolls has said. When it does click, all the hairs on her body stand on end and a slight buzz starts building in her ears.

“Where?”

“We’ll explain on the way. Just get here. We leave in thirty.”

The sound of another door slamming carries through the phone to echo around her bedroom. Nicole thinks she can hear Wynonna directing in the background but it’s hard to tell with the buzzing that’s getting louder and louder.

“I’ll be there.”

And as abruptly as the phone call started, it ends.

Dolls hangs up the phone without another word and Nicole kicks it into high gear, getting dressed and ready in less than ten minutes. She’s out the door with her empty travel mug and a hurried goodbye to Calamity Jane in record time.

Five minutes later (she may have driven a little faster than was strictly legal, sue her), she’s pulling into a spot across the street from the station and sprinting across Main Street, busting through the front doors of the building. The overnight dispatcher, Annie, gives Nicole a startled look as she skids a little on the linoleum floor in front of the station’s reception desk, but there’s no time to stop.

Nicole gives her a sheepish wave as she hustles past the front counter and towards the bullpen where Dolls, Doc, Wynonna, and Jeremy are huddled up with a disgruntled looking Nedley.

Dolls is strapping on his tactical vest and Wynonna is checking the chamber of Peacemaker when Nicole’s approach catches the group’s attention.

“Holy shit. You look like death warmed over but death forgot to tell you, Haughtstuff. When was the last time you slept?”

Nicole’s eye twitches at Wynonna’s remark. “I slept last night.”

Dolls and Doc share a skeptical look over Wynonna’s shoulder. Nicole is about to snap at them to mind their own damn business but is stopped by a hand being lain gently on her forearm. She looks down at the hand and then up into the kind eyes of Nedley.

“When was the last time you slept for more than a few hours, Haught?”

Heat starts creeping up Nicole’s face as everyone eyes her with a mixture of pity and concern. She was fine, damnit. She may not look as put together as she usually does, but she could still do her job perfectly well, thank you very much.

“The last full night’s sleep I had was about five days ago,” Wynonna’s eyebrows raise slightly, “but I have been sleepin’ off-and-on since then, sir, and I am still completely capable of performing my job right now.” She tries to keep the edge from sliding into her voice but she can tell by his expression that she’s not one hundred percent successful.

None of them need to know that the only way she can fall asleep now is if she knocks herself out with a few fingers of whiskey, and even that only allows her to rest for a couple hours at most.

“No one is doubting your abilities, Nicole. We just want to make sure you’re takin’ care of yourself.”

Nicole adjusts her hands so they’re hanging off of her gun belt - travel mug still clutched tightly in one hand - instead of at her sides, surreptitiously removing her arm from Nedley’s touch. “I’m fine. Now, are we gonna stand around here all day? I was under the impression we had somewhere to be.”

Everyone shares another look - as if she’s not standing _right there_ \- but it passes quickly. Dolls racks the slide of his gun and holsters it. “She’s right. Let’s get a move on, people.”

Nicole starts to move towards the door with everyone else, but Doc stops her with the clearing of his throat and a soft, “Deputy Haught, a moment.”

Closing her eyes and counting backwards from five to keep her temper in check, Nicole turns back around. “Yes, Henry?”

Her patience starts wearing thin very quickly as Doc silently appraises her. Finally, he takes out a cigarillo and lets it hang from his lips. “Perhaps some coffee before we depart? Lord knows what we shall find at our destination, but I can assure you that I would feel much more alert and much better with a cup of jamocha in me. How about you?”

 _That’s_ what he stopped her for? A cup of coffee? For fuck’s sake.

Nicole’s teeth click together with the effort it takes to keep from saying something she may regret later - especially in front of the others who are now loitering a few paces away and watching the interaction.

A second later, Nicole realizes that it’s not like Doc to waste her time, though, so there must be more he wants to say; something he doesn’t want to say in front of the others.

Exhaling sharply in irritation through her nose, she turns down the hall in quiet acquiescence and heads to the break room. Besides, despite telling them that she’s fine, the thought of getting caffeine into her system is incredibly appealing. Her eyes have been burning a bit since her mad dash across the street and part of her wishes she could close them for just a few minutes.

Doc dutifully follows a few paces behind her and they breeze past the department’s evidence lock-up before moving into the break room proper.

Ever the gentleman, Doc pours her coffee into her travel mug for her. He hands it back to her but makes no move to get himself any. Holding her gaze, his mustache twitches a few times before he apparently decides to tell her what he actually stopped her for. “Nicole, why are you punishin’ yourself like this?”

“What?” Nicole furrows her eyebrows. “I’m not punishing myself, Doc.”

He takes a step closer to her and his piercing blue gaze bores into hers. “You may not think you are punishin’ yourself, but you most certainly are. I say this as someone who loves you and someone who has been in your shoes before: pushin’ yourself like you are now will only serve to your detriment. Allowin’ yourself time to properly rest is a necessity you mustn’t forsake. Waverly,” he continues, lightly touching the back of the hand she has wrapped around her mug, “she would never forgive us if we let you run yourself into the ground, Nicole. I would never forgive myself. You are too good and too kind to let what has happened drive you down a road best left untraveled.”

Nicole gives him a half-smile. She’s touched by his concern but it changes nothing. “I appreciate you lookin’ out for me, Henry, but, all things being equal, I would never forgive myself for letting Waverly die… which is a _very_ real possibility if we don’t find her soon. If I have to miss out on a few hours of sleep to ensure that she comes home before it’s too late, then it is a sacrifice I am happy and willin’ to make.”

Doc opens his mouth to respond but Dolls’ heavy footsteps drifting down the hallway has both of them turning their heads towards the doorway. A moment later, Dolls appears with an exasperated look. He gives a pointed look at the watch on his wrist, then them, then storms back down the hallway.

Nicole rolls her eyes at Doc and his mustache quirks up on one side. No matter the situation, some things never change, and Dolls being anal retentive to the extreme is one of them.

Their conversation temporarily shelved, they walk side-by-side back down the hall leading to the entrance. Passing evidence lock-up, Nicole slows, a thought forming in her head.

Doc takes another few steps before he realizes that she’s no longer with him and half-turns back towards her, eyebrow raised in question.

“You go on ahead. I just realized I forgot something in the break room. It’ll only take a minute - I’ll be right behind you guys.”

Doc narrows his eyes at her in suspicion but seems to accept it after a moment because, with a tilt of his hat, he continues down the hall and turns the corner.

Blowing a heavy breath through her lips, Nicole turns towards the doorway leading to lock-up. Now that the thought has taken root in her mind, she can’t shake it.

She knows it’s a terrible idea - not to mention _highly_ illegal - but… no one is really going to notice if a few pills seized from a bunch of cons go missing, right? They’re just sitting there and it’s not like she’s going to abuse them. This is strictly for functionality, after all - not for recreational use.

 _Fuck_. This is a horrible idea.

But it just might be the edge she needs to find Waverly.

Mind made up, she quietly slips into the room and walks between the storage shelves until she finds what she’s looking for about halfway down the row on her left. Sitting on the second ‘Confiscated Contraband’ shelf, is a neatly labelled clear bag with a handful of small, orangish-yellow, round tablets. Completely innocuous looking but highly potent.

Adderall. 30 milligrams each.

Looking over her shoulder to make absolutely sure no one else has entered lock-up without her noticing, Nicole shakes some of the pills out into her hand before sealing the bag back up and pocketing the rest.

Nicole deposits the bag back on the shelf and hastily exits the storage room, her pocket and heart feeling heavier than when she entered.

It didn’t matter, though. She was committed to doing whatever it took to find Waverly. She was already barely sleeping; at least with these pills, she’d be able to make use of her waking hours more effectively and with far less exhaustion.

She simply needs to remember that she’s doing this for Waverly.

 

(Guilt and shame still claw at the edges anyway.)

 

*

 

_“Waverly’s Jeep was found in the parking lot of an abandoned storefront-turned-Baptist church on the outskirts of the city. The man who reported it in is Charles Theodore Boone - says he was there as a volunteer to clean graffiti off the building and help set-up for Sunday Mass. Metro has already cordoned off the scene and has detained Mr. Boone for us for questioning.”_

Dolls’ voice crackles through the CB radio in her cruiser as they speed down the highway towards the city, her car bringing up the rear of the three-car convoy. Nicole grips and releases her steering wheel, the leather creaking when she grabs and twists anxiously.

 _“I’ve uh…”_ Dolls is quiet for a moment, the static of him holding down the transmit button the only sound in Nicole’s cruiser, _“I’ve also been informed by the lead detective to be prepared for what we’re about to see. He’s aware this is personal and thought we should know that it’s… a bit macabre. They haven’t found a body but we should be ready for the worst.”_

Nicole’s stomach swoops and her mouth tastes like bile.

Thankfully, Nedley’s gruff voice comes over the radio before Nicole’s imagination can overwhelm her. _“All right, everyone focus now. We’re almost there.”_

A few minutes later sees them pulling into the parking lot of an old outlet mall. Most of the storefronts are boarded up with gang tags and other graffiti sprayed on the facades. The few that aren’t, are noticeably run-down and a little seedy - not exactly a place one would expect to find a church.

The sun is fully risen and a good ways above the horizon by the time they climb out of their cars, the warmth of its rays doing nothing to combat the chill that creeps through Nicole’s blood. She takes a deep breath of fresh air, trying to clear the nausea that the last five minutes have left her with.

In a group, they head towards the yellow police lines. A uniformed officer sees them coming and lifts the line for them. He motions towards the far end of storefronts, “Detective Gagnon is waiting for you with CSU at the scene. Around the corner - can’t miss it.”

They file past the officer, Doc tipping his hat in thanks. Nicole hangs back right before turning the corner, though.

Up until this point, they’ve had nothing to go on, but she’s had endless faith that they would find Waverly and she would be okay. Now, they finally have something, but Dolls’ voice saying it’s macabre won’t stop bouncing around her head and heart. What if there’s no coming back from what’s around the corner?

Jeremy notes her hesitance and slides up next to her. He offers his silent support with an awkward pat to her shoulder. Nicole gives him a little half-smile in return and takes a fortifying breath.

She rounds the corner and, at first, nothing seems all that out-of-the-ordinary except for the multiple police officers and crime scene technicians moving about the area. The red Jeep is parked perfectly between the lines and there’s no visible damage whatsoever; nothing that would cause an everyday citizen to call the police about it.

Nicole starts moving towards it and she’s about five feet away when she sees it. In what appears to be dried blood, a crude approximation of a caduceus is drawn on the hood of the Jeep. A piece of paper with red smudges is also folded up and tucked under the windshield wiper. She feels electricity in her fingertips and her heart gives a small tug as she wanders closer.

“What the hell…”

“Deputy.” A voice from beside her pulls her attention away from the vehicle and to a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and sharp eyes, standing a few feet away with a notepad out. He flips the notepad closed, tucking it into the pocket of his suit jacket, and walks towards her with his hand extended. “I’m Sergeant Detective Luke Gagnon of Metro P.D.’s Homicide Division.”

Nicole shakes his hand in a daze. “Chief Deputy Sheriff Nicole Haught of Purgatory Sheriff Department.” Her eyes dart back towards Waverly’s Jeep.

He lets their hands drop and says in a gentle voice that pulls Nicole’s eyes back to him. “I’m so sorry, Deputy Haught.”

She looks back at him in confusion. He nods towards the Jeep, his eyes softening, “Sheriff Nedley mentioned that the missing woman, Waverly, is your partner. I assure you, we will do everything we can to assist your team in finding out what happened to her.”

The nausea that flares in her stomach again when he says Waverly’s name has Nicole seriously contemplating a trip to the doctor to see about getting a prescription for anti-nausea medication. She has to swallow a few times before she’s able to respond with a weak, “Thank you, Detective.”

She doesn’t give him a chance to say anything more; she can’t - she knows his pity would overwhelm her, and she can’t afford to break down in the middle of a crime scene she’s been hoping to find for weeks.

Nicole glances at the Jeep again but moves away towards where Dolls and Wynonna are approaching a man who looks to be in his early thirties - attractive by conventional standards with long dark hair and dark eyes -, flanked on either side by uniforms.

“Mr. Boone, my name is Deputy Marshal Dolls, this is my partner Deputy Earp, and this is Chief Deputy Sheriff Haught. We just have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind?”

The man’s dark eyes bounce between them all, never settling as if he’s watching an intense game of Pong. He nods his head rapidly and his words practically trip over themselves in his rush to get them out. “Yes, yes of course! I’d be happy to. Anything for the good guys, right??”

Nicole raises a cynical eyebrow and shares a look with the other two that easily conveys _‘what the hell is this guy on?’_. Wynonna shrugs and Dolls narrows his eyes at the guy.

“Mr. Boone, could you please describe to us the circumstances in which you found the Jeep?”

“Hmm… yes, well, you see, I was up very early this morning because, you know, I like to volunteer to do a little community clean-up around here and there’s no time like the present! You know? Anyway, this neighborhood in particular has really gone downhill recently and I thought to myself, ‘Teddy, you can make a difference! Help clean it up a bit.’ and so, I thought I should start with the church, you know, since people like a good church and it’s a place of good people and I figured, why not? You know?”

“Cut to the chase, asshole.” The man gives Wynonna a surprised look and Dolls elbows her none too gently. Nicole has to stifle the smile that’s tugging at her lips. Typical Wynonna.

“R-r-right… so, um, anyway… as I was saying, I was up early to clean up the church and get it ready for Mass when I saw the Jeep parked there. The sun hadn’t started rising, yet, so it was still semi-dark when I saw it and I didn’t think anything of it, you know, because it’s not unusual for people to park here, right? But when I came back out to grab something from my car, I saw something on the hood. At first I thought it was, you know, hood art or something but then when I actually looked at it… it was… _dripping_ and I panicked. I ran back into the church and called the cops and now we’re, you know, here.” He shrugs at the end of his spiel, fingers twisting together in front of his body.

“Did you see anything else suspicious or unusual? Something out of place or someone you’ve never seen before? Anything you can give us would be extremely helpful.”

He scratches his temple with his index finger and furrows his eyebrows in concentration. “Ummm… no… not that I can think of.” He shrugs again, “Like I said, it was still pretty dark, so I didn’t see much of anything and by the time I came back out, whoever like, did it, was most likely long gone, you know?”

Dolls nods once and pulls out his business card, handing it to the other man. “Thank you, Mr. Boone. If you can think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“We’ll be in touch if we need anything else from you. And as Deputy Dolls said, please don’t hesitate to call. This is my direct line.” Nicole pulls one of her cards out as well, writes down her work cell on the back, and hands it to him, too.

“Of course, officers. Good luck with your, you know, investigation and all that.”

Wynonna, Dolls, and Nicole start to walk back towards the Jeep to meet up with Doc, Jeremy, and Nedley - the others having spread throughout the crime scene area to see what they could find.

On their way over and out of earshot of everyone else, Wynonna mutters just loud enough for Nicole to hear, “Well, that guy was certainly unhelpful. He also gave me a real weird vibe.” Wynonna shivers, “All my lady bits got super tingly and I wanted to mount him right then and there, which - as we all know - means that he’s probably a bad, bad dude.”

Nicole snorts and tries to cover it up with a cough when Dolls, who’s now quite a bit ahead of them, shoots her a concerned look. She waves him off and Wynonna gives her an amused grin.

“You’re something else, Earp, you know that?”

Wynonna gives Nicole a little mock bow. “Thank you, thank you.”

“I know what you mean, though. There was just something about him that seemed… off.” Nicole shrugs, “I guess the best we can do is look into him and keep him in mind during our investigation.”

When they’re halfway to meeting up with the others, Jeremy is bouncing on his toes like a small child and shouting, “Come on, guys!”

Wynonna rolls her eyes but the two of them pick up the pace.

Dolls hands Nicole a pair of latex gloves as she steps up to the group and with a jerk of his head he says, “Detective Gagnon says we’re clear to start processing the scene ourselves. CSU has all the pictures they need, so we can go ahead and remove the note.”

With a determined look, Nicole snaps the gloves on and carefully removes the note. She unfolds it slowly to ensure she doesn’t rip it because parts of the paper are sticking together.

Finally, it’s open and she reads through it once. Then a second time.

In half a second, she’s bent-double and throwing up stomach acid on the pavement. Doc manages to step back in time, but poor Jeremy isn’t quick enough and ends up with some of the contents of her stomach splattered on his shoes and pants.

She coughs and heaves until there’s nothing left to give and then she heaves some more. It registers dimly that a warm hand is rubbing circles in her lower back and god, is she thankful for Wynonna.

Pulling herself together, Nicole straightens up and tilts back with her face to the sky, blindly accepting the water bottle being held out to her. She swishes the room temperature liquid around a few times before spitting it out and then taking a long pull from the water. She wipes her mouth with her sleeve and blinks a few times to clear the stars from her vision. She finds that it was Detective Gagnon who had handed her the bottle and another wave of gratitude passes through her.

“Thanks.” Her voice is gravelly and rough so she takes another drink of water.

He accepts her thanks with a small smile.

She breathes deeply a few times to settle the last of the nausea still raging in her stomach. Silently, she hands the note to Dolls, who reads it and visibly pales.

Wynonna looks at them apprehensively, her voice barely more than a whisper, “What does it say?”

Nicole takes a fortifying breath (she’s been doing that a lot lately), “It’s… I think it’s written in blood. I have little doubt it’s Waverly’s, if it is. And it… it says, _‘Unsuspecting, she entered the little gate of the church which unbeknown to her was then the portals of heaven. The Devil and the angel entered the house of God. ‘Come hither,’ said the Devil, ‘let us ascend together the belfry leading toward heaven.’_ and then below that quote, it says, _‘Come find what The Demon of the Belfry has left of her, if you dare.’_ ”

The implication is clear.

A pin could drop in the silence that follows.

Dolls just stands there, unmoving, eyes staring unseeingly at the letter.

Jeremy’s lip starts to quiver, tears gathering rapidly in his eyes.

Nedley takes his hat off and twists it tightly between his hands.

Doc rests his hands on his holstered pistols and hangs his head.

Wynonna…

Wynonna starts shaking uncontrollably before lashing out violently, kicking the tire of Waverly’s Jeep with a gut-wrenching scream of rage.

Detective Gagnon manages to throw an arm out to catch Wynonna before she collapses in a heap on the ground.

And Nicole?

Nicole watches it all in slow-motion, an unwilling participant in her own life. Forced to bear witness to, and suffer from, the continuous heartbreak that the loss of Waverly has caused in everyone.

It’s Detective Gagnon - a man that’s just met them but is holding onto Wynonna like an old friend - that finally interrupts the moment, “I think… I think he wants us to find him and he’s just gloating right now. My boys have searched all around here and inside the church, but the only thing out of place is the Jeep.” He carefully helps a distraught Wynonna into an upright position, “Everything about this has been done with intention; I think that piece of paper is meant to give us a clue to another location.

“This church,” he waves to the storefront behind them, “has neither a gate nor a belfry and those are specifically mentioned in the letter. And the symbol on the Jeep? A caduceus is used as a symbol for medicine, so perhaps we’re looking for someone with a medical background? All I’m saying is, this is clearly set-up. The killer wants us to find him and he’s given us a place to start.”

Nicole hardens. “Abductor.” He gives her a puzzled look. “Waverly hasn’t been found, dead or alive, which means this is still a missing persons case, not a homicide. Her _abductor_ wants us to find him. If this asshole wants to toy with us, he’s got another thing comin’.”

Nicole turns on her heel and walks towards her car. She knows the others will process and collect the evidence, but she can’t stand to be here another second.

She needs to get back to Purgatory to start running down the leads that have been left to them.

 

_I’m comin’, Waverly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Caduceus - the staff of Hermes entwined with two snakes and two wings, often used in medical insignia and signage.
> 
> I wonder, I wonder... who could it be??
> 
> Also, this is heavily based on an actual serial killer named Theodore Durrant, so feel free to do some research but know that I'm going to incorporate as much historical fact in this while telling my own story as possible.
> 
> Anyway, comments are appreciated!


	4. Chasing Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group possibly narrows down who may have taken Waverly. Nicole responds to a strange call. Shit hits the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay on this chapter. My mom had a full hip replacement, so I've been helping her out around the house. Between that and my motivation temporarily shifting to drawing for a bit, it was a struggle to get back to this, but I did it! And it's almost 7000 words long. Phew. Enjoy.

**=== Day 31 ===**

 

“Jeremy, please tell me you’ve got somethin’.” Nicole flops into one of the chairs littered around the long table in Headquarters. She yawns loudly and slaps her cheeks a few times to try and wake up some before the Adderall kicks in. It was way too early in the morning, she was in an awful mood, and her shift had just started. She could really use some good news at the beginning of her work day today.

Jeremy pauses with his hands suspended over whatever experiment he’s working. He carefully sets the dropper in his hand down on the counter and lifts his safety glasses up to rest on the crown of his head. “You okay?”

Nicole’s only response is to shoot him an exasperated look.

“Okayyy… I’ll take that as a no.”

“Jeremy.”

Jeremy rolls his eyes and peels the latex gloves off his hands, muttering under his breath, “Geez, and I thought Wynonna and Dolls were the cranky ones.”

“I can hear you, you know.” Nicole snaps harshly.

She immediately regrets it when Jeremy gives her a panicked look. A flash of guilt nips at her for the outburst; it’s not his fault she’s been in a perpetually shitty mood. He doesn’t deserve her ire and she needs to be better at keeping herself in check.

She tries to smooth it over with a small, reassuring smile, “I’m sorry. You’ve done nothin’ wrong and I’m just being a shitty friend. Please forgive me?”

He visibly relaxes and smiles at her. “Of course I forgive you, sillyhead. I’m sorry for calling you cranky.”

Nicole rises from the chair and gives him a brief, one-armed hug. “Nothing to forgive, Jer. You’re not exactly wrong.” They both share a quick laugh before Nicole gestures towards the bank of computers on the far side of Headquarters, “Have you managed to find anything else out about the letter?”

He perks up and hurries over to one computer in particular. Nicole stretches briefly before following him over and hovering over his shoulder.

“Okay, so, I’ve gone through and analyzed this letter from as many angles as I can think of.” Jeremy clicks open a program on his computer and brings up a close-up photo of the letter with multiple layering windows over the image, “We already know that it was written with a fountain pen in blood, and we can confirm that it was Waverly’s blood. I’ve done some chemical testing on the paper, but I’m still waiting on the results. What I wouldn’t give for some of the BBD’s resources right now...” Nicole can’t help but agree; they may be a ruthless and dubious organization, but their resources and technologies were vast and exponentially faster than their own. He minimizes all but one of the overlays before continuing, “In the meantime, I’ve also been trying to analyze the handwriting for clues and I can tell you a little about it. Let me just...”

He types away for several quiet seconds.

Nicole raises her eyebrow at him when he doesn’t continue. “Okay, and…”

His attention is focused so intently on the screen that he startles a little at the prompting. “Right, sorry… uh, anyway… In the beginning, the writing style is kind of ornate and close to what’s called Spencerian script - a type of cursive popular throughout the 1800s. Notice, though,” he zooms in some on the last section of the letter, “The ‘C’ in ‘Come find’ is different than what’s used for ‘Come hither’ earlier on, and everything following that is less ornate and more reminiscent of the Palmer method, which didn’t really come into popularity until the early 1900s.”

Nicole leans in closer and, sure enough, the writing in the two sections of the letter do look slightly different. “What does it mean? Did two different people write it? Based on that time frame, does this mean it’s definitely a Revenant we’re looking for?”

Jeremy shrugs, “The handwriting is close enough that it’s probably the same person. There was also only one set of unidentifiable prints found in and around the Jeep and on the letter, so it’s pretty likely he’s working alone. Now, I can only guess to whether or not he’s a Revenant, but I have a feeling he is because when do we ever get lucky enough to deal with normal, non-demonic psychos?”

Nicole snorts and Jeremy grins at her, “Anyway, if we put all of it together, consider what the detective said about this guy leaving intentional clues, and assume he’s a Revenant, then I would say that he may have done this to show us that he learned Spencerian script originally but learned the Palmer method later, which - hypothetically speaking - means he was probably around until 1910-ish. Therefore he would have most likely been one of the last baddies that Wyatt shot with Peacemaker.”

“Good work, Mr. Holmes,” Nicole says with a wink. Jeremy beams at the nickname as Nicole leans away from the computer, “That could definitely help narrow things down. I’ll have to scour Waverly’s old notes on Revenants again and see if we can’t narrow it down even more. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“Well, I’m no expert in graphology, but I think I can guess a little at some of his personality traits based on his handwriting?”

Nicole gives him a wry grin. “Aside from being bat-shit crazy and evil, you mean?”

He rolls his eyes with a small smile and bumps his shoulder into hers. “Yes, aside from those incredibly obvious ones.”

Smiling, she rubs her shoulder good-naturedly. “So, let’s hear ‘em.”

Jeremy zooms back out so the whole letter is visible and with the mouse, starts pointing to and circling specific parts as he explains, “See his capital letters? They’re flashy and slant to the left a bit which usually can mean an inflated ego. Now, look here: the margins are exact and the script throughout is pretty large - this normally denotes pride, possibly to the point of arrogance and narcissism. It also means he can lean towards impulsivity. Then, you have the spacing between words which is wide, meaning he’s in control - like in a dominate way - but isolated, and the letters themselves are narrow, further enforcing the idea of ‘in control’. I think the most noticeable thing, though, is the pressure he uses while he writes.” He takes a deep breath and doesn’t look at Nicole as he says, “He’s very heavy-handed which is typically indicative of… aggressiveness and cruelty.”

“Jeremy…” It feels like a lead weight has been dropped into Nicole’s stomach as she considers all those traits together. She swallows roughly, “We know this guy is bad news… but are you potentially suggesting we’re dealin’ with a _serial killer_ Revenant?”

“I…” He sighs and his shoulders sag in defeat, “I don’t know. Without any other cases to compare to, I can’t be sure, but I think it’s incredibly likely - especially given the evidence and the deliberateness in the way we found it.”

Nicole blinks a few times before moving back to her chair and collapsing into it. It’s getting harder and harder to deny that her super-out-there-couldn’t-be-possible theory, could, in fact, be possible. She had _so_ been hoping to be wrong. “Fuckin’ shit.”

Wynonna, Doc, and Dolls choose this exact moment to come through the door of HQ.

Wynonna lets out a peel of delighted laughter and jumps up to sit on the table next to Nicole, “Haughtpants, you really need to stop cussing so much. My sister is going to be _pissssed_ that I’ve corrupted you.”

“That’s the least of our worries right now.” Nicole clenches her jaw and fists, “The guy we’re lookin’ for is almost definitely a Revenant--”

“I thought we had already established that like, day one?” interjects Wynonna.

Temper flaring, Nicole gives her a withering glare, “No, _you_ assumed that. _I’ve_ been operating under the assumption that it could be anyone, that way we weren’t overlooking any potential suspects. Now that Jeremy’s had time to analyze the letter thoroughly, though, we can reasonably assume it’s a Revenant… and not just any Revenant. We have reason to believe he was - or, more accurately, is - a serial killer.”

“Fucking shit.” Wynonna grits her teeth and slides off the table. She paces over to the evidence board, hands tangled in the roots of her hair.

“This is great news.” Dolls says.

Nicole and Wynonna each glare at him for his incredibly blase comment and he raises his hands in an attempt to mollify them. “You know what I meant. It explains a lot about what we found at the crime scene - the intention, the gloating, the methodicalness of it all. It could help lead us to the guy because now we have a potential M.O. to look for.”

Wynonna backhands him in the bicep, only wincing slightly. “Yeah, that’s wonderful, Dolls. Real great. Except for the whole _serial killer_ part and the fact _he has my baby sister_."

The tension that’s constantly simmering under the surface - the strain between them that they all try so hard to ignore and joke around most days - thickens rapidly in that moment. Nicole half-rises out of her chair in anticipation of… whatever might happen next.

Doc heads it off before it can escalate any further, though, with a placating gesture and a step between Dolls and Wynonna. “Now, all right, there’s no need for things to get heated. We may have ourselves another break, so I think it would be mighty prudent we put our heads together and think on that instead of squabblin’ amongst ourselves.”

It takes another tense moment before the two of them finally relax some. Nicole lets her body ease back into the chair and shoots Doc a grateful look; he’s been the only one of the group that’s managed to deftly navigate the eggshells everyone’s been walking on for the past four weeks.

He has a point, too. They need to put their heads together and now seems as good a time as any to share what she’s found in her own research - and what her crackpot theory is.

She gets up from her seat and moves to the computer attached to the projector. Ignoring the questioning glance from Jeremy, she pulls out a flashdrive from her pocket and plugs it in.

“Nic, what’re you doing?” Wynonna asks in confusion.

“I… well, as I said before, I’ve been operating under the assumption it could be anyone, and so I’ve been doin’ extra research in my free time into obscure myths, legends, stories, etc. that might help us and… I came across one that well-- I may have a potential suspect.”

All eyes turn to her and Dolls’ voice is tight when he asks, “And you’re just telling us this now because?”

Nicole clicks a few times and brings up all the contents from the flashdrive. “Because I didn’t think it was pertinent or even _plausible_. But with everything that Jeremy and I just talked about and the fact that we’re runnin’ out of options… I figure maybe it’s time to start thinking outside of the box - which leads to my potential suspect. May I introduce to you one William Henry Theodore Durrant, the Demon of the Belfry. According to several articles I’ve found, San Francisco’s very own ‘Jack the Ripper’.”

She clicks on the correct file and enlarges it for the others. Everyone gathers closer to the projector to take a look.

They collectively read through the first page of her research before Doc readjusts his hat some and pulls a cigarillo out to work between his teeth. “Tell us, Deputy, why you think this man could be who we are lookin’ for if, according to your research here, he was neither killed by Peacemaker nor died in the Ghost River Triangle?”

“For starters, the quote at the beginning of the letter was from the opening remarks during the trial of - _medical student, avid church-goer, and Canadian_ \- Theodore Durrant for the murders of Blanche Lamont and Minnie Williams. It’s a very specific quote and the profile fits the evidence we found at the church. Then, of course, you have the overt mention of ‘the Demon of the Belfry’. Not exactly subtle, so no explanation necessary.” Nicole scrolls down some to show them more bullet points she had compiled.

Jeremy stops her after a second and points at her screen. “It says here he was hanged for his crimes and was cremated in California in 1898, so I’m still not following why you think it could be him? Especially because that’s over 1,200 miles away _and_ we figured that whoever did this lived to 1910-ish?”

Nicole scrolls to the next page, full of pictures of newspaper clips. “Well, in 1904, two women disappeared from Purgatory and another two from surrounding counties, each found dead a few days after their disappearances. Each one had been strangled, stripped, and displayed like a cadaver in different churches, much like Blanche was. Then, in 1905, another woman went missing and, due to the smell, was found a week later in the closet of an abandoned church. She too had been stripped and strangled but had also been stabbed repeatedly. Just like Minnie. The fifth murder was never linked to the other four and their killer was allegedly never caught.” She keeps scrolling to the next page of news articles. “Then there was a lull for awhile before there was a noticeable uptick of missing women and their suspicious deaths starting again in 1929 - the year Wyatt died. None of them were ever as specific as Blanche, Minnie, and those first five, but each had an element or two that could possibly be tied back to them. What if it’s all the same guy? What if he _was_ somehow put down by Peacemaker and he resurrected when Wyatt died and he’s just been killin’ ever since?”

Everyone shares a skeptical look and Nicole sighs, “Look, I know how it sounds - I do. Especially because I don’t have any actual proof that all the murders and suspicious deaths around here are connected, but my gut is _tellin’_ me that they’re all connected and it all somehow relates back to Durrant. I don’t know how but it does.”

Dolls crosses his arms. “So, he… what? Faked his hanging and cremation and somehow snuck back here where he was eventually hunted down and killed by Wyatt Earp after murdering at least five more women? Then resurrected and killed more women and now has Waverly?”

Nicole opens her mouth to respond but is interrupted by Wynonna suddenly gagging and making a disgusted face beside her. “Oh, GROSS! Sex workers said this dude would cut the throats of birds and pour the blood on himself when he ‘finished’. This curse just gets more and more disgusting the more Revenants I have to hunt down and kill.”

Rolling her eyes - but not disagreeing - Nicole shifts her attention back to Dolls. “I don’t know. Maybe? That’s why I didn’t think it was plausible but… what else have we got to go on? At this point, what’s the harm in looking into this more? Does anyone else have anything better? Because I’m all ears.”

Dolls stares at her for a long moment before sighing in defeat. “Fine. Jeremy and I will review the rest of this and we’ll see what else we can dig up.”

“That’s all I ask.”

A knock at the door pulls their attention away from the projector and Nedley pokes his head in. “Haught, I need you for patrols.”

Nicole stands up quickly and nods. “Yes sir. I’ll be right there.”

There’s nothing more she could do here, anyway; she’s shared her theory and now she just has to hope that with more eyes on it, they’ll be able to find something actionable to go on.

*

 _“All units, we have a possible 10-31 at the Parker residence. I repeat, possible 10-31 at the Parker residence. Activity unknown. Confirm unit responding.”_ Sarah, this morning’s dispatcher, breaks the silence surrounding Nicole as her voice crackles heavily through the radio on her shoulder, the distance from town causing the transmission to come through less clearly than usual.

Nicole had driven a bit out of town to try and clear her head some during her morning patrol, hoping that the quiet solitude of the surrounding countryside would help. She’d even gotten out to walk some of her restlessness off and get her blood pumping.

It hadn’t helped.

Maybe a call could distract her and wake her up some.

Nicole clicks on her radio and answers the call as she walks back towards her cruiser. “Haught responding. 10-76 to Parker residence.”

_“10-4, Haught. Be careful. Ol’ Mrs. Parker said she heard someone or something in the barn.”_

“10-4, Sarah. I’ll let you know when I get there.”

She slides into the driver’s seat and turns the cruiser on while a giant yawn sneaks up on her. Frustrated with her inability to wake up fully, she rubs her face vigorously before shifting the car into gear and heading out towards the Parkers’ place.

About halfway there, another yawn creeps up on her, forcing her to blink rapidly to try and clear the sudden blurriness in her eyes.

Son of a bitch.

It was only just now approaching ten in the morning. She still had at least five more hours of her shift left, and, despite the Adderall she’d taken earlier, she was definitely running on fumes. Maybe after checking things out at the Parkers’, she’d swing by E-Spur-O’s and grab a cup of coffee. Or three.

A few minutes later sees her pulling into the drive leading towards the Parkers’ house. Slowly, she drives up the gravel road, scanning the house and surroundings as she goes. Nothing looks unusual or suspicious, so she parks off to the side of the driveway.

“Dispatch, this is Haught. I’m 10-23 at the Parker residence.”

_“10-4, Haught. Let me know if you need anything.”_

“Will do, Sarah.”

She goes to get out of the car and - just as she swings her leg out the door and starts to hoist herself out of the car - another yawn catches her.

Gritting her teeth, she leans back into the car and takes another Adderall from the container she’s stored them in, dry-swallowing it quickly before climbing out. God, what a mess it would be if people knew how reliant she’d become on these stupid pills. If _Waverly_ knew… fuck.

Well, if Waverly were around to know, she wouldn’t be taking them, so…

Shaking her head before taking the stairs two at a time, she crosses the porch and rests her hand casually on the buckle of her gun belt. She opens the screen and knocks on the front door, voice raised slightly, “Mrs. Parker, it’s Chief Deputy Haught. I’m here about your call - is everything all right?”

The sounds of shuffling and a chain being drawn back on the door has Nicole stepping back a half-step so she’s not crowding the doorway.

An elderly woman with a mess of curlers in her hair and kind but slightly glazed eyes peeks out at her from the small gap between the door and the doorframe. Nicole tips her stetson to her in greeting - thankful that she was wearing it today instead of the ballcap that she’d insisted on years ago. It reminds her fondly of her first memories of Waverly.

Opening the door a bit wider, more of Mrs. Parker comes into view. “Can I help you, dearie?”

Nicole gives her a charming smile, the dimple in her left cheek popping. “Mrs. Parker, I’m here to help you actually.”

The other woman gives her a confused smile. “Help me with what?”

Oh boy. Nicole could already tell this was going to be a long call.

“Ma’am, you called the department earlier sayin’ that you heard noises in the barn, so I came to check it out for you.”

Mrs. Parker smiles at her blankly. “I didn’t call the cops; surely I would have remembered such a thing!” Her face scrunches in concentration. “Though, now that you mention it, I did hear some noises in the barn earlier this morning. Very suspicious noises. Lots of shuffling and banging.”

Yup. A long one. Nicole pulls out her notepad, trying hard to maintain her professionalism as she writes down what the older woman says. “Do you remember what time you heard these noises?”

“Heard what noises, dearie?”

“The shuffling and banging noises in the barn, ma’am.”

“Oh yes. I heard lots of banging and shuffling in the barn this morning. It was just after sunrise and I was out feeding my chickens when I heard it.”

That’s weird. “Mrs. Parker, if you heard the noises so early this morning, why did you just call us about twenty minutes ago?”

“I didn’t call anybody.”

Nicole can feel the muscle in her jaw twitch from how hard she’s clamping her teeth shut. She tries to maintain as nice of a closed-lipped smile as she can.

Usually, this type of interaction wouldn’t bother her - Waverly on many occasions told her she had the patience of a saint and the smile to match -, but today she was short on patience and energy and it was taking everything in her not to get upset with the other woman. She knows that Mrs. Parker can’t help being senile, but the round-and-round this conversation has turned into is grating on her nerves.

“Mrs. Parker, is there anyone else at home? Maybe someone else I could talk to who heard the noises, too?”

“Oh no, dearie. It’s just me. My grandson, Tommy - you know Tommy, right? Well, he was here and heard all the noises but he’s gone into town to go shopping for me. Lovely boy, he is! Handsome, too - just like my husband Harold. Would you like to stay and chat with him? He’s a lovely boy. I think you two would get along well! He’s single, you know. You’re very beautiful and he’s told me on more than one occasion that he likes red-heads!”

Oh god - why? Why is her day going like this?? Best to just shut down that kind of conversation before it even starts.

“Mrs. Parker, I’m flattered, truly, but I’m actually in a very serious relationship already and that’s not why I’m here. I’m here about the noises in the barn - could we get back to that, please?”

“Oh my. Yes, noises in the barn, yes. Tommy heard them and went to see what it was earlier!”

“Okay and what did he find, ma’am?”

“He didn’t find anything. Everything was there! Some of the tools had been knocked off the workbench, but that’s it.”

Nicole lets out a sigh of relief - they were finally getting somewhere. “Anything else?”

“Hmm… no. No, not that I can think of.”

“Okay, ma’am. Do you mind if I take a look inside the barn, just to make sure?”

“Of course, Deputy…” Mrs. Parker trails off and gives her a pointed look.

“Haught, ma’am. Chief Deputy Nicole Haught.”

Mrs. Parker suddenly claps her hands together, startling Nicole. “Ohhh! You’re the one that runs around with those Earp girls, aren’t you? That Wynonna is trouble, but Waverly… now, if she isn’t the sweetest thing to grace this town. Do you think that she’d be interested in meeting my grandson? He’s very handsome, you know.”

Nicole has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her composure. Her emotions are see-sawing back and forth faster than she can manage. She’s not sure if she’s going to laugh or snap at the situation she’s now found herself in.

“Mrs. Parker, I’m sorry to say but I don’t believe Waverly would be interested in your grandson, either.”

“Why’s that, dearie?”

Flipping her notepad closed and slowly returning it to her pocket, Nicole takes a second to think how best to respond. It’s not like her and Waverly were a secret - by any means - so she may as well go with the honest answer. “Because Waverly is already in a committed relationship… with me. We’ve been together for over two years now."

An awkward silence settles between them for a few moments before Mrs. Parker smiles sweetly at Nicole. “Well, you two are quite beautiful so I imagine you make a lovely couple. You’re a lucky girl to be with that Waverly Earp. She’s one of the best of us.”

And just like that, all of Nicole’s previous irritation at this whole encounter melts away. The gentle reminder of how much people adore Waverly - and how lucky Nicole is to have her in her life - is enough to have a pleasant warmth curl around her heart.

Nicole puffs out a laugh as she exhales and gives Mrs. Parker a dimpled smile. “Don’t I know it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, ma’am, I’m going to go check out your barn now and let you return to your day.”

“You take care now, Deputy. And you take care of that girl of yours.” Mrs. Parker smiles once more before closing the door.

A deep ache settles into Nicole’s chest, suffocating the warmth that was just there, as she walks down the steps.

It’s moments like this where she’s blindsided by the fact that Waverly is gone.

For just a few seconds, she forgot that Waverly wasn’t waiting for her back at the station. She forgot that she couldn’t shoot off a text telling the brunette about this exchange. She forgot that she wouldn’t get a response back filled with emoji faces and hearts.

God, she fucking misses Waverly.

She can’t dwell, though. She still has a job to do.

Nicole crosses the yard and stops in front of the barn door. Drawing her gun and flashlight, she opens the door to the barn. She sweeps the light’s beam back and forth from the doorway before slowly stepping into the dimly-lit interior.

Nothing seems to be disturbed except for by the tool bench, which was to be expected based on what Mrs. Parker had said about the tools and Tommy.

Making her way over there, Nicole shines her flashlight around the room and continues to come up empty.

She crouches in front of the workbench and scans the area for any clues as to what caused the commotion. There’s some displaced hay, an area of dust on the bench that looks like it was hastily swept by something only a few inches wide, and a smudged shoe print in the sawdust by the bandsaw.

She’s just about to stand up when she hears shuffling above her. Freezing, Nicole strains her hearing and listens.

It’s silent for a few seconds before she definitely hears more shuffling in the hay loft. Aiming her flashlight and gun up at the ceiling, she slowly makes her way to the middle of the barn where she has a pretty decent line of sight into the loft.

Several pairs of glinting eyes peer back at her and she huffs out a laugh as she lowers her weapon.

Raccoons. And based on the size of most of them, it’s a momma raccoon and her babies who have probably made a home in the hay loft.

Holstering her weapon and flashlight, Nicole exits the barn and clicks on her shoulder radio.

“Dispatch, this is Haught.”

_“Go ahead, Haught.”_

“Sarah, I’m 10-24 at the Parker residence. Would you do me a favor and call Animal Control out here. The disturbance in the barn was a family of raccoons. And could you let Tommy Parker know? I would tell Mrs. Parker, but I’m afraid she won’t remember.”

_“10-4, Haught. I’ll get them out there as soon as I can.”_

Nicole climbs into her car and leans her head back against the headrest. “Thanks, Sarah. Mark me as 10-7. I’m in desperate need of some coffee after the conversation I just had with Mrs. Parker.”

_“That bad today, huh?”_

“You have no idea.”

Sarah’s smile is easily heard through her radio. _“10-4, Nicole. Enjoy your break.”_

Smiling slightly to herself, Nicole turns on her cruiser and pulls away from the Parkers’ place and heads back towards town.

Flipping on the radio, she hums along to the song as she cruises down the county road that cuts through the Pine Barrens and connects up with Main Street.

It’s a quiet road which makes it one of Nicole’s favorites to drive. She gets a wonderful view of the forest with a backdrop of the Canadian Rockies, and, ever since they got rid of Lou and Bulshar, the forests have lost their creepy factor, so that was an added bonus.

She’s just coming up to a bend in the road when a flash of movement to her left catches her eye. Slowing the car down some, she looks more closely into the forest but, whatever it was, it’s gone now.

Shrugging, Nicole accelerates again and starts the curve in the road. She’s pulling out of the curve when another flash to her left catches her attention, but this time she definitely saw what it was. _Waverly_.

Without thinking, she cranes her head over her shoulder to look back at the spot and the next thing she knows, her car is skidding out of control. She whips her head back around and fights to correct course, but it’s too late. The car fishtails side-to-side several times before sliding nose-first into a tree with a resounding crunch on the other side of the road.

The impact has her launching against her seatbelt and bouncing off the airbag before being yanked back against the seat.

She sits there, stunned, as black spots fill her vision and pop and something wet runs over her lips and down her chin. She licks them and the coppery taste of blood coats her mouth, which, great. She’s got at least a broken nose and who knows what else.

Groaning, she unbuckles her seat belt and tries to take a deep breath but a lancing pain through her chest keeps her from trying again. Add bruised sternum to the list.

She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, pressing her sleeve gently under her nose to try and stop the bleeding.

Nicole’s not sure how long she’s there like that before a knock on her window has her almost jumping out of her skin.

Blearily, she blinks several times at the silhouette standing outside her car before it sluggishly registers that it’s Doc. Add a possible concussion to the growing list.

The sound of a wiggling door handle rattles through the car and it takes her longer than she’d like to admit to realize that the doors are still locked. Reaching out, she pulls the handle weakly and manages _just_ enough to pop the mechanism. Doc swings the door open and leans in.

“Nicole, are you all right?”

She lets out a bark of laughter she immediately regrets. Groaning, she rolls her head to the side and gives him a half-hearted glare. “Tell me, Doc… does it look like I’m all right to you?”

“Well… no. To be quite frank, you look like shit.”

Nicole snorts in amusement, chest pain be damned. It must be pretty bad if even John Henry Holliday isn’t mincing words. “Help me outta the car, would ya?”

Doc grumbles under his breath some but Nicole is hurting too much at the moment to care. She reaches out towards him and he leans in to wrap her up in a half-hug, supporting the majority of her body weight as she struggles out of the car.

With some difficulty and a lot of swearing on Nicole’s part, they manage to get her out of the car without causing any more damage. Doc holds her up against the car as she leans back against the rear door.

Muffled footsteps reach her ears and she rolls her head some to see Jeremy walking towards them.

“Jer-bear, what’re you doin’ here?” Nicole gives him a confused smile and winces as she slides down the car some. Doc grunts a little in effort to keep her upright. “Actually, why are either of you here?”

“Maybe you should take a seat before I accidentally drop you, Nicole.”

She nods some but quickly stops when it makes the world spin. Instead she just lets her legs relax and her and Doc sink ungracefully to the ground.

Suddenly, Jeremy is crouched in front of her, too, and she looks between them. “What are you guys doing here?”

Doc and Jeremy share a concerned look. “Um… Doc and I were just headed back to the Homestead to check in with Wynonna. We saw your cruiser and stopped to check it out. Are you okay?”

“Peachy. I’m feelin’ peachy. Except for you know--” she clumsily waves to her nose then the car, “the broken nose and the concussion and bruised sternum I probably have. Oh, and the crashed car - can’t forget that one.”

Jeremy leans closer and gently tilts her head side-to-side, examining her nose. “What happened?”

“I was just drivin’ along and then I… I saw Waverly in the trees.” Nicole’s eyes grow wide and she struggles to stand up. “I saw Waverly!”

Both Doc and Jeremy press her back down against the car and she fights weakly against them until the pain in her chest and head becomes too much. She collapses back against the car, furious.

“Waverly is out there right now! We need to get to her!”

Doc shakes his head. “Nicole, you need to calm down. Waverly is not in those trees. No one is. You are only going to hurt yourself more by tryin’ to go in there.”

She grabs the lapels of his jacket and tugs half-heartedly. “No! I saw her! She was there - I swear! I was just turnin’ the corner and I--” she coughs on some phlegm and promptly chokes on a gasp of pain - the movement aggravating her chest. She leans there, panting for air as tears start to blur her vision.

“Jeremy, why don’t you check her car for something to drink?”

Jeremy jumps up and rummages around in her car before pulling back with a pinched look on his face, her half-empty water bottle and a small container in hand.

Doc takes the bottle and opens it for her before helping her drink some water carefully. The burning in her chest subsides some and she manages a glance at the container. Her heart sinks. Based on the look on Jeremy’s face, he knows exactly what’s in it.

Silently, Jeremy holds the container out to Doc who takes it from him and peers inside before his face pales visibly underneath his mustache. “Nicole…”

Voice raspy, Nicole shrugs and tries to answer as nonchalantly as possible, “They’re some meds I take to help with headaches.”

“Bullshit!” Nicole jerks back in surprise at Jeremy’s vehemence. “These are Adderall! Nicole! How long have you been taking these??”

She grimaces and avoids their eyes. “It’s only been like, a little over a week. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?! Are you kidding?!”

Anger flares up inside her at his tone and she snarls at Jeremy, “It’s not a fuckin’ big deal! I just use them to focus when I’m tired! I barely sleep so I may as well try and do something _useful_ when I’m awake!”

Doc’s face hardens and Jeremy’s mouth opens and closes like a fish a few times before he kneels down by her. His voice soft, he grips her hand gently. “These can cause hallucinations, Nicole, among other _really_ bad side effects. These are for ADHD, not for… what you’re using them for. When was the last time you had one?”

She pulls her hand out of his grasp and grits her teeth against the pain in her head. “Around 10-ish?”

“Well then, it seems to me that the mystery of Waverly in the woods has now been solved.” Doc rocks back on his heels and gives her a disappointed look. “I thought you were better than resortin' to this, _Chief Deputy_.”

Nicole flinches as if he’d slapped her. Tears well up in her eyes and she gives him a beseeching look. “Please… Please don’t tell anyone about this. I could lose my badge… Please.”

Doc stands up and glares down at her before tucking the container in his jacket pocket and pacing away without another word.

Jeremy looks between Doc and her like a lost puppy before finally sighing. “We won’t say anything, but… Nicole,” he carefully takes her hand again, “You need to stop taking these. You need to sleep.”

Nicole scoffs and rips her hand out of his grasp again. “That’s easy for you to say - the love of _your_ life isn’t missing. You know _nothing_ about what it’s like for me. You haven’t got a damn _clue_ what I see everytime I close my eyes. You have no idea what it’s like to lie there in bed, all alone, _worrying_ about her - wondering whether or not she’s even _alive_ anymore. And you definitely have no idea how much I need everyone else to stop fuckin’ _touching_ me.”

She rolls to her knees and staggers to her feet before leaning heavily against the side of her car, nausea finally making its appearance.

Abject hurt is written plain as day across Jeremy’s face but she can’t care enough to feel bad at the moment.

She’s tired of everyone touching her because it’s not the touch she craves. She’s tired of the pity because it’s done nothing to find Waverly. She’s tired of no one understanding how much she’s _hurting_ because god, it feels like she’s being torn apart. _She’s so fucking tired_.

Unclipping her radio from her belt, she shoves it into Jeremy’s chest. “How about you actually do somethin’ useful, Jeremy, and call me a damn ambulance?”

Angrily, she yanks open the door to the back of her cruiser and crawls in to lay down. Despite the all-encompassing pain in her chest and head, she curls up and lets the tears flow.

How had this day spiraled so completely out of control?

*

She must have passed out because when she blinks her eyes open again, a paramedic is standing by the open door, calling her name. Carefully, she sits up and grunts in pain before pushing through and sliding out towards him.

He helps her out and towards the back of the ambulance before setting her down on the edge and wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. Numbness seeps through her body regardless of the comforting weight.

Nicole surveys the scene around her in a daze as he starts to clean the blood off of her face. Jeremy and Doc are standing a ways off, talking to a deputy sheriff who she can’t identify at the moment with his back turned towards her; it looks like it might be Jacobson, but her head hurts too much to be sure. Another paramedic is approaching her with a clipboard and a tow truck worker is hooking up her cruiser.

The second paramedic asks her basic questions to test for a concussion as the first one sets her nose and prods her ribs, shoulders, and chest. Nicole barely feels it. She barely feels anything. She simply answers them on auto-pilot.

After all is said and done, they give her a preliminary diagnosis of a grade 2 concussion, a broken nose, and a moderately bruised sternum. They tell her that they’re going to take her to the hospital for overnight observation and for an official diagnosis from a doctor. She hears it all through cotton.

Gently, they usher her all the way into the back of the ambulance. She sits woodenly across from the first paramedic and looks back out at the scene.

Nicole tries to catch Doc and Jeremy’s eyes, but both of them are adamantly avoiding her gaze.

The ambulance door swings closed, cutting them off from view and she closes her eyes, a few more tears sliding down her cheeks. But what’s a few more at this point?

It’s with choking certainty as they drive away that she knows she’s broken something between herself and the others - something she’s not sure can ever be fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were at all curious, the drawing I did is an iPad portrait of Dom (she's so effin' beautiful - it's not fair). I didn't quite do her justice but one can only try, right? http://themonalliza.tumblr.com/image/176471806523
> 
> Any who, let me know what you think of either/both the story and drawing! Until next time.


	5. When the Bell Tolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stress, pain, exhaustion... they all cause people to act in unpredictable ways and, sometimes, the fallout from these actions can be just as unpredictable.
> 
> Nicole deals with the consequences of her actions and the gang gets another call from Detective Gagnon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys... wow. Let me just start with: thanks for your patience and sorry for taking so long.
> 
> This chapter was hard for me to write and got a little away from me. It went through several revisions and ended up being almost 11k words. Ha. I'm still not super happy with it, but I'm happy enough and I've got to keep the ball rolling, you know?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

**=== Day 34 ===**

 

Nicole is about two seconds away from losing her goddamn mind.

She’s been on mandatory medical leave for three days now and it _sucks_ ; if she thought that she was in a perpetual bad mood before, she was definitely mistaken.

She’s incredibly sore from her pelvis up, she can’t do anything useful besides browse the internet on her laptop for anymore potential psycho Revenants, _and_ she’s just generally going stir-crazy. Not to mention, she’s barely spoken to anyone since… well, since she royally fucked up with Doc and Jeremy.

Nicole tried to take the first steps towards fixing it as soon as she had been released from the hospital the next morning, but… it wasn’t going well.

She’d called Jeremy first thing when she got home and he had come over after he was done helping Dolls sort through her research for the day, but… Nicole knows that no matter how much he had nodded along and seemed to accept her apology, she had hurt him - badly - and that, contrary to what he said, things weren’t good between them. The entire time they spoke, he never looked her in the eyes. Not once. Not even accidentally.

She hasn’t heard from him since.

(It probably hadn’t helped that she had definitely been under the influence of very potent painkillers during the conversation.)

And Doc? He was another matter entirely. She’s tried everything short of dragging herself out of the house and tracking him down - something she was still tempted to do anyway, regardless of how much her body refused to cooperate and how many painkillers she was on.

He’s ignored all of her calls, texts, FaceTimes, emails… everything. He even refused to respond when Nicole convinced Wynonna to ask him to talk to her (which was a feat in itself because she couldn’t exactly tell Wynonna the whole truth as to _why_ Doc wasn’t speaking to her).

To top it off, things got worse a few hours after that.

She doesn’t know what happened or what was said exactly, but Wynonna and Dolls started being distant with her as well. Dolls had reverted back to his aloof stoicism from when she first met him and Wynonna… well, her snarky comments had an extra bite to them now.

At least those two were still checking in with her everyday and updating her on anything new… She’s not sure what she’d do if all four of them refused to talk to her.

Nicole covers her face with a pillow - ignoring the slight tenderness of her nose - and moans her pent-up frustration into it before letting her arms flop to her sides. She lays there, wallowing in her misery and self-loathing until her phone starts buzzing on the side table and the opening chords of Alabama Song filter through the cotton of her self-imposed prison.

Without taking the pillow off her face, Nicole grabs for her phone - almost knocking it off the side table - before clicking the lock button twice and sending the call straight to voicemail.

She really didn’t want to talk to Wynonna at the moment because, despite craving a decent conversation with someone that wasn’t Calamity Jane, Nicole could only handle so much snark in her current state of mind before having a complete meltdown.

She drops the phone on top of the fluffy pillow still covering her face and tries to relax.

The _only_ plus side to her Nedley-mandated house arrest has been the fact that she’s been able to catch up on sleep some. It’s still only a few hours here and there before pain or nightmares wake her, but it’s more than she’s had in weeks.

If she’s lucky, she’ll be able to get a few more hours now…

But since when has luck been on her side?

The dull vibrating against her face and the muffled whistles of the X-Files theme has her groaning in frustration again.

Fumbling with her phone, she clicks the lock button twice; if she can’t handle snark from Wynonna right now, she can handle awkward, charged silences and monosyllabic responses from Dolls even less.

Her phone goes off in her hand again before she can even think about putting it down - this time playing the Avengers theme.

Jeremy’s ringtone.

Swiping blindly across the screen, Nicole rapidly sits up right, the pillow dumping unceremoniously into her lap. Having momentarily forgotten _exactly_ how limiting having a bruised sternum is, she winces as the abrupt movement strains her chest.

She answers the call slightly breathless, “Jeremy, hey.”

“Haughtmess, put on your blues. We’re coming to get you.” Definitely not Jeremy.

Grimacing, she sighs, “You know I’m not really supposed to leave the house, Wynonna, especially not in uniform. Nedley has me on medical leave until late next week - and for good reason: I can barely do anything right now.”

“Just shut up and do it, asshat. Nedley’s temporarily reinstated you for the day - said something about not being able to let you go as a civilian. Anyway, that big-time Metro detective found something and we need all hands on deck - even your less than steady ones.” Wynonna’s voice is clipped and derisive in a way that causes Nicole’s figurative hackles to raise. Her temper has been less than short lately and Wynonna is _very_ good at getting a rise out of her, much to her chagrin.

She has to count to five in her head and breathe out slowly before responding tersely, “There’s no need to be such a dick, Earp.”

Wynonna lets out a harsh laugh, “That’s like the pot calling the kettle black, ain’t it, Haughthead? Just get ready. We’ll be there in five.”

Nicole doesn’t even deign to respond, hanging up on Wynonna without another word.

She lays back on the bed and fumes about the short conversation for a moment before sighing in annoyance; she got so worked up in the brief few seconds she spoke with the other woman that she completely neglected to ask what Detective Gagnon found.

Letting out an aggravated noise, Nicole absentmindedly pinches the bridge of her nose… barely suppressing the resulting yelp of pain because, duh, broken noses are sore, moron. (She’s also starting to think that maybe it’d be a good idea to get her head checked again - apparently, her memory has gone to complete shit.)

“Pull it together, Haught,” she mutters to herself.

Resigned to her fate and the others’ impending arrival, she slowly slides out of bed and moves to her closet, socked feet barely making any noise on the cold wood floor.

Pushing through the pain of leaning over by breathing through her nose, she carefully slips on a pair of uniform pants. She pulls them up all the way and leans against the doorframe to catch her breath before rooting around some more in her closet for the matching half-zip pullover.

Finding it hidden behind one of her heavier department-issued winter coats, she pulls it and the heavy coat out and lays them on the bed. Moving over to her dresser, she pulls out a sports bra and quickly sheds the wrinkled button-down she’s been using as a sleep shirt before attempting to pull the black elastic-wear on.

She manages to get her head and right arm through before she’s forced to stop from the incessant twinging in her chest, subsequently trapping herself in a conundrum; either it’s gonna hurt like a bitch to try and take it off and attempt to put it on a different way, or it’s gonna hurt like a bitch to try and force her left arm up and through the way she originally intended.

Awesome. Just… awesome.

The absurdity of the situation - and the physical toll such a seemingly easy task has taken out of her - threatens to overwhelm her and steamroll her into a pathetic, pain-addled pancake on the floor.

Taking a few deep breaths through her nose and biting her lips to keep them from quivering, she tilts her head back and squeezes her eyes closed, willing herself not to cry in frustration because it’ll only make everything hurt that much worse. Besides, she’s done more than enough crying in the past few days already, thank you very fucking much.

Suddenly, all the little hairs on her body stand on end when she registers the sound of boots on the wood floor outside her room.

Twisting towards the door, Nicole opens her eyes to the sight of Wynonna paused in her bedroom doorway - which, fantastic. She’s now effectively flashing her girlfriend’s older sister... who also happens to currently have slightly antagonistic feelings towards Nicole. Could the ground just swallow her up already?

Please?

Apparently not because precisely zero holes show up in her expensive wood flooring no matter how hard she wishes for one to.

Well. She should probably do the next best thing, then.

In two long strides, she’s back by her bed. She snatches up the first thing that she can get her hands on - which happens to be her discarded pillow - and crosses her arms with it, covering her chest.

(In that moment, Nicole seriously resents the fact that her skin is so pale because she has no doubt that the burning hot flush creeping up her chest and neck makes her embarrassment splendidly obvious.)

Wynonna blinks at her with wide-eyes a few times before narrowing them with a frown. “What is this, Haughtshit - Girls Gone Wild, Purgatory Edition?”

Her emotions having been so wrung-out and all over the place in the past five minutes (more like the past five weeks, but who’s counting, right?), Nicole has no energy to come up with a snappy retort. Wordlessly, she flounders a bit before curling in on herself some and simply mutters, “I, uh… I can’t get my bra on. I just found out that it, um… hurts too much to move my left arm the way I need to to, you know… get it on, and I can’t exactly take it off and try again for the same reason.”

Wynonna’s eyes soften and she clears her throat awkwardly as she enters Nicole’s bedroom fully. “Ah. That um… yeah. Sorry.”

Nicole lifts her shoulder in a small shrug and winces a little. “Water under the bridge.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you’re a goddamn bumper sticker. Who even says that in normal conversation?” Rolling her eyes, Wynonna moves a little closer to Nicole. “Would you like some help?”

Well, it’s not like her pride could really suffer anymore at the moment. Nicole nods with a sheepish twist of her mouth.

“Alrighty then. I’m gonna need you to drop the pillow now unless you want to try and, for whatever reason, take it with you in your bra.”

Nicole rolls her eyes with a small laugh and turns towards the bed, tossing the pillow on it before covering her breasts with her hands and turning back around to face Wynonna.

Wynonna smirks at her, eyebrow raised in challenge. “No need to be shy now - it’s not like I haven’t already seen them.”

Huffing, Nicole drops her hands and holds them out at her sides in an annoyed gesture as if to say ‘well, get on with it then’.

The brunette lets out a bark of laughter, “All right, all right, chill. I’m doing it.” Moving firmly into Nicole’s personal space, Wynonna gives her an impressed look while reaching out for the side of the bra that’s bunched against Nicole’s neck. “Has anyone ever told you that you have fantastic tits? I mean, aside from all the bruising and all that, but Haught damn, girl. I’m starting to see what convinced Waverly to bat for the other team.”

Nicole backhands Wynonna in the stomach.

“OW! Fuck! What the hell!? What was that for!?” And god save her because Wynonna yelps it with an indignation she apparently thinks she deserves after a comment like that.

Mustering the best glare she possibly can - and she knows it’s not great because the bright red she’s turned again takes away from it (as does the fact that she needs help into her own clothing), but _damnit_ that does not mean she won’t give it her all - Nicole hisses, “What the fuck do you think that was for?!”

Wynonna throws up her hands. “I don’t know! I gave you a compliment! Most people respond by saying thanks, not by hitting the other person!”

“ _Most people_ don’t comment on how fantastic their sister’s girlfriend’s tits are and then insinuate that said tits are one of the only appealing things about said girlfriend! Especially not to said girlfriend’s face! _God_ , you’re such a crude asshole sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah, well,” Wynonna pokes her in the shoulder - thankfully not the one with the gigantic, purplish black bruise on it - and Nicole bats her hand away with a dirty look, “sometimes, you can be a real bitchy-ass prude with a stick shoved so far up your ass, I don’t know how it doesn’t tickle your brain when you walk, so I guess we all have our flaws, huh? Now do you want my help or not?”

Seething, Nicole bites her tongue on an acerbic response and instead gives her a short nod.

(Despite how incensed Wynonna has been making her lately, she’s so tired of them lashing out at each other because she loves Wynonna and she knows the other woman loves her and this constant bickering is helping no one.)

(There’s also a small part of her that mourns the loss of the easy way they used to rib each other just like this - sans the venom behind the words - before Waverly disappeared.)

(Oh, who is she kidding: she mourns how _everything_ was before Waverly disappeared.)

“That’s what I thought. Now take a deep breath and don’t hit me again because this is gonna hurt.” Wynonna moves to her side and pulls the elastic of the bra away from Nicole’s body with one hand while guiding Nicole’s left arm up and through the correct hole.

Nicole whimpers and her eyes water, but with some effort and wiggling, they’re successful at getting her bra on without any actual tears making an appearance.

She clutches her left arm to her chest protectively afterward and breathes through the residual pain radiating from the center of her chest to her left collarbone. Seatbelts are a wonderful, wonderful thing - and she knows that it saved her from injuries far worse than what she has - but Jesus, they did a lot of damage all on their own.

“Ever hear that joke about how bras and friends are the same?” Wynonna sarcastically quips.

Once the pain in her collar bone subsides, Nicole slowly lowers her left arm and experimentally clenches and unclenches her fist. “No.”

(Which is a total bald-faced lie; she’s definitely heard it before, she just likes to pretend to be dense about things like this because she’s endlessly amused by Wynonna’s melodramatics. Plus, she knows it’ll help lighten the mood after their small snapfest at each other, and she could definitely use a moment or two of lightness in her life right about now.)

“What?! Dude, that was supposed to be like, an ironic rhetorical question.” The Earp heir looks at her dumbfounded. “How have you not heard this joke? It’s like, _the_ go-to bra joke.”

“I don’t know, Wynonna - I just haven’t.”

“That’s just… I don’t even know how to respond to that.” The brunette shakes her head, bemused. “Jesus, Haught, where did we go so wrong with you? I can’t believe you’ve never heard this joke before.”

Nicole sighs, feigning annoyance, “And at this rate, I feel like I’m still never goin’ to hear it. So… how about you tell me the punchline?”

“It’s because they’re both supportive and close to your heart.”

Internally, Nicole chuckles - it’s a stupid but funny joke after all -, but maintains a blank look for Wynonna’s benefit. “That’s it? That’s the joke?”

Groaning, Wynonna runs both her hands down her face in exaggerated manner, pulling against her cheeks. “Hopeless. You’re hopeless, Nicole. I just can’t with you.” With a shake of her head, she rolls her eyes at Nicole and nabs the uniform pullover off the bed and holds it open expectantly.

Nicole gives an amused huff, and, together, they start to delicately work it up both her arms before pulling it over her head, like she should have done with her bra (something she’s not likely to forget anytime soon).

She finishes pulling the shirt down all the way and - avoiding the thick black-and-blue bruise across her lower stomach as much as possible - gently tucks it into her uniform pants with minimal pain, thank goodness.

Grabbing her work coat and phone off the bed, she moves through her bedroom door and out into the hallway before descending the stairs and heading to her entryway, Wynonna following close behind.

She takes her service belt off the ottoman under the window and clips it on before slipping on a pair of boots. The thick, rainbow-colored wool socks she was already wearing may not be the most professional, but at least her toes would stay nice and warm. Plus, she’s not exactly in the mood or condition to change them at the moment.

Slipping on her jacket and swiping up her house keys from the basket on the small bookshelf between the front door and kitchen, she goes to open her door but Wynonna clears her throat, stopping her.

“Aren’t you forgetting something there, Officer Haught-to-trot?” The brunette pats her hand on Peacemaker with an amused look.

A small blush heats up Nicole’s face as she brushes past the other woman and quickly opens up her gun safe on the other side of the living room and removes her service weapon. Holstering it, she shuffles back past Wynonna.

Snickering stops her in her tracks a second time and she turns back around, exasperated, “What now, Wynonna?”

Wynonna gestures to her unlaced boots with a faux-serious expression, “I think this is the least ‘straight’-laced I’ve ever seen you.”

Shaking her head at the pun, Nicole responds with a tired, “Cute.”

“I thought so. But, seriously, what gives? Are you really not going to tie your shoes? Isn’t that like, against your Type A programming or something? Or department dress code, at the very least?”

Nicole gives her a sardonic smile. “Don’t you think I would if I could? I barely managed to put my own pants on by myself and you saw how successful I was at puttin’ on the rest of my clothes - what makes you think I could hunch over long enough to tie my shoes?”

Wynonna makes a put upon face at her. “Ugh. I guess I just have to do _everything_ around here today.” Griping under her breath, she crouches down and pulls Nicole’s laces tight and ties them in a bow, double-knotting them for good measure.

Standing up, she gives an overly-cheery smile and clap, “Ready for your first day of school now, kid?”

Rolling her eyes, Nicole just opens the door and ushers Wynonna out, flipping her off behind her back as she goes by. Despite her inability to clothe herself or tie her shoes today, _she_ was definitely not being the childish one… for the most part.

She closes the door behind them and locks up, following her friend down the porch steps and across the drive to Dolls’ massive SUV.

Nicole goes to get in the back, but Wynonna stops her with a hand on her arm and a shake of her head. “You’re up front today.”

Confused, Nicole acquiesces with a funny look at Wynonna but says nothing, climbing into the front passenger seat.

It’s not until she’s buckling her seatbelt in that it dawns on her why she’s up front; Doc and Jeremy are in the back and, based on the blank stare Doc’s directing out the window and Jeremy’s complete avoidance of eye contact (still), they’re not exactly thrilled she’s there.

Nicole’s heart twists, the faint feelings of light-heartedness and normalcy Wynonna managed to tease out of her after their initial spat suddenly shriveling up and disappearing completely. It was bad enough when she thought that they just didn’t want to speak to her… it was so much worse when she could tell that they were _actively_ wishing she was nowhere near them.

Without a word, Dolls pulls away from Nicole’s house and heads towards the road leading out of town.

She slinks down in her seat, sliding back into a state of self-loathing like she has over and over again the last three days as she replays the accident and ensuing fallout in her head.

The rage she’d been feeling at herself and the world up until that point had manifested and exploded in misplaced anger, directed at people she considered her family. She’d lashed out at Doc and Jeremy like a wounded animal in a corner when all they did was try to help her. They extended their hand and she bit it like the fucking selfish ingrate she is, and now she was living with the consequences of that.

She’d hurt half of her family to the point that they wanted nothing to do with her.

Catching Doc’s eye in the rearview mirror for a second, she opens her mouth to say something, but he shakes his head minutely with a disappointed look, mustache twitching down, before turning his gaze back out the window.

Nicole grips her knees, eyes stinging, and bites back the urge to apologize until she’s blue in the face. He didn’t want to hear it right now and she would respect that - she owed him that much, at least.

She shifts and stares out the front window, not even trying to catch Jeremy’s eye. It’s obvious that his refusal to meet her eyes is his way of trying to keep up some kind of emotional barrier between them. It stings like nobody’s business but she can hardly fault him for it - he was the one who took the brunt of her anger, after all.

Dolls turns onto the highway connecting Purgatory to the big city and Nicole leans her head back and closes her eyes, trying to sort out and get a handle on the inner turmoil and self-hatred the last few minutes have brought on (with little success).

It was definitely going to be a long, miserable ride.  


*  


They’ve been driving for almost an hour and the silence in the car is suffocating - so much so that Nicole has decided to re-acronym Dolls’ car the Supremely Uncomfortable Void.

Even Wynonna has been unnervingly quiet.

They’re cruising along with some light mid-afternoon traffic in one of the suburbs to the east of the city when Nicole can’t take it anymore (her dark thoughts have been running rampant in the silence and she needs a distraction desperately). She can sense that they’re getting close to their destination - whatever that destination is - and, shooting a quick glance at Dolls, she asks quietly, “What are we walkin’ into, Dolls?”

His face shifts briefly - too fast for Nicole to figure out what he’s thinking or feeling - before settling back into a neutral stare out the windshield. The only thing giving away his tension is the way he’s white-knuckling the steering wheel. “We don’t know. Detective Gagnon was incredibly tight-lipped. He just said we needed to get there ASAP. Whatever it is, though, it’s something big.”

Nicole chews on her lip, contemplating Dolls’ words. Drumming her fingers on her thigh, she can’t help but agree: she has a nagging feeling that things were about to change drastically. She’s got a stranglehold on the hope that it’ll be a good change, but niggling doubt is still managing to slither in regardless of how tightly she holds on.

They drive for another few minutes before that doubt successfully rips her fingers off with a violent yank when they turn into a parking lot across the street of a large, well-kept church.

A church with a neat front lawn, surrounded by a beautifully intricate wrought-iron and stone fence, with an equally elegant wrought-iron and stone gate.

A church that rises a little over three-stories, with a towering entrance that ends in a point at the top of an open-air belfry, a tarnished bronze bell, hanging innocently for all to see.

Nicole’s stomach plummets to her feet. The yellow police tape surrounding the perimeter and the presence of a Crime Scene Unit at this particular church has her on edge instantly.

The car is still rolling through the parking lot when she hears Wynonna fling open her door and jump out. She quickly throws off her own seatbelt and jumps out after her, both of them racing towards the front doors of the church, heedless of the light traffic crossing back-and-forth in front of them.

They both manage to miraculously cross unscathed at a dead sprint, and - with her longer legs - Nicole pulls level with, then easily passes Wynonna on their mad dash to the doors of the church.

She ducks under the police line - pure adrenaline keeping her from registering any pain from the move - and leaps the three steps up onto the stoop of the church.

Busting through the front doors, she skids to an abrupt stop when a startled uniformed officer posted just inside the doors draws his gun on her.

Nicole quickly raises her hands.

The officer opens his mouth to say something but suddenly, Nicole is being knocked forward with an _oof!_ and almost into a pew by a tunnel-visioned Wynonna, who had been hot on her heels and hadn’t expected Nicole to stop.

“Shit, Haught! Why the hell did you stop like-- Oh. Heyyyy there, Officer.”

Straightening herself up and running a hand through her hair, she faces the Metro officer, whose gun is now trained on Wynonna, with her hands raised once more.

He sweeps his weapon back and forth between them, eyeing them critically. “This is an active crime scene. Who are you and why are you here?”

A voice from above draws their attention up to the mezzanine; Detective Gagnon is hanging his head out over the rail, observing the situation with a raised eyebrow. “Officer Lewis, these are Chief Deputy Haught of the Purgatory Sheriff’s Department and Deputy Marshal Earp. There are also three more coming and I suspect they’re not far behind these two. They’re all here because I’ve asked them to be, so if you could please lower your weapon and allow them to pass.”

Nodding, the man holsters his weapon. “Yes sir. My apologies, ladies.”

Wynonna _pssh_ ’s with a wave of her hand, “No worries. I’m pretty used to guys whippin’ it out on me when I least expect it.”

Nicole hangs her head and sighs in exhaustion at Wynonna’s complete lack of professionalism. Looking back up at the officer, she smiles at him apologetically, “Please excuse my colleague here - she was raised by wolves in a barn.”

Wynonna shoots her a mock look of outrage. “You wound me, Haughtpants. I’ll have you know I was raised by wolves in a _bar_. The nerve of some people,” Wynonna claps her hand on the officer’s shoulder, “am I right, Louie?”

“Deputies Haught and Earp, if you would be so kind as to leave my poor officer alone, I have something that requires your immediate attention.” Detective Gagnon gestures to a spiral staircase leading up to the mezzanine.

Nicole glances over at Wynonna, both of their faces hardening, the gravity of the situation - and why they were running headlong in here in the first place - returning instantaneously.

With a nod, Wynonna heads towards the staircase, Nicole trailing only a few paces behind her. They meet the detective at the top and he leads them past a sprawling organ and towards another staircase on the other side, cordoned off with a thick, velvet rope. He unlatches it and gestures for Wynonna to go first.

Without hesitation, Wynonna begins to climb the long, narrow spiral staircase, then Nicole, then Gagnon.

As they’re climbing, Gagnon gently pulls on Nicole’s jacket to slow her down. Wynonna pulls ahead more and Nicole glances back and down at him with a questioning look.

He vaguely gestures to the patches of purplish red across her nose and under her eyes as they continue to climb, “What happened?”

“Car accident.”

Gagnon _hmm_ s thoughtfully but doesn’t say anything else.

Seconds later, they reach a landing that appears to serve as an extra storage area in addition to its original purpose as the home of the bell tower’s inner mechanics. Books, bibles, candles, silk cloths, some spare chairs, a small chalkboard, and other odds and ends lay scattered around the gears and wheels that take up the space, and on the far side of it all, a ladder that runs up to a hatch in the ceiling.

Wordlessly, Gagnon moves around them and steps on the first rung of the ladder.

He pauses before taking his foot back off the ladder. “I suppose I should probably tell you what’s going on first before we go up there.”

“Ya think, Inspector Gadget?” Wynonna scoffs, but it’s half-hearted and does little to hide the fear in her eyes - both of them have a _very_ good idea of what’s going on, but they’re terrified of saying or hearing it outloud.

Sighing, Gagnon turns back to face them. He’s silent for a moment as he stands in front of them, clearly trying to figure out how best to start. He makes significant eye contact with Wynonna and then Nicole before visibly steeling himself. “We received a report very early this morning that the church had been broken into. When the responding officer arrived on scene, the only signs of disturbance were the broken locks on the doors and a drawing of a caduceus pinned to the front door. I heard about it through another detective and came right away to check it out myself. When I saw the gate and belfry, well… I put two-and-two together, as I’m sure you have, too.” His face softens as he continues, “We found a body up there and it’s… gruesome. All identifying features have been removed, so we need you to identify her, if you can.”

It’s what she suspected.

It’s what she suspected, but it still knocks into Nicole with the weight of a freight train.

(Suspecting something awful is never as life-altering as _knowing_ something awful.)

There’s an unidentified woman’s body. In the belfry. Of a church with a gate. A body that Detective Gagnon seems to think they might be able to identify.

Reaching out for Wynonna’s hand, she squeezes until her knuckles turn white, Wynonna squeezing back just as hard.

Movements stiff but laced with steely Earp resolve, Wynonna steps forward, Nicole’s hand still in hers. “Show us.”

With a curt nod, Gagnon climbs the ladder and swings the hatch open. Wynonna goes first again, squeezing her hand in solidarity once before letting go. Nicole follows after several deep, calming breaths.

Climbing the ladder takes a bit more effort than it usually should. Her initial adrenaline spike fading slightly, the pull of bruised muscle causes her to climb in fits and starts, and she’s slightly winded when she finally makes it up to the platform of the belfry.

The belfry itself is large, but the platform isn’t. It narrowly skirts around the edges of a second raised, fenced-off platform, with the majority of the room taken up by a bell large enough to obstruct most of the view to the other side of the room.

Gagnon closes the hatch with a soft thunk and dips his chin once in a small nod towards the other side. “Take your time.”

Neither Nicole nor Wynonna respond.

Wynonna stands stockstill beside the hatch, staring blankly at the bell and breathing shallowly - all of that Earp steel falling away a few feet away from possible answers that neither one of them could come back from.

Nicole is hardly faring better and can barely manage any coherent thought besides, _‘Please don’t be Waverly. Please don’t be Waverly.’_. Still, between the two of them, it looks like Nicole will need to take the lead this time.

Stepping towards the other woman, she takes Wynonna’s limp hand in her own and starts to make her way around the edge of the walkway, pulling the other woman behind her.

The first thing she sees are a couple of the yellow, numbered markers used by crime scene technicians.

The next, the unmistakable sight of feet covered by a white sheet.

They slowly round the corner on the far side of the room, Wynonna still in a zombie state, and stop by the covered body.

Nicole’s heart thunders in her chest and she has to make a conscious effort to breathe evenly lest she hyperventilate as she slowly sinks to her knees, pulling her best friend down with her.

Both of them kneel there, hand-in-hand, like stone sentinels for several minutes as a cool breeze gusts through the open archways, ruffling their hair and chilling their fingers to the bone - a chill easily unnoticed by either of them when compared to the icy feeling sliding down their spines.

Nicole stares and _stares_ at the body hidden by the sheet, but no matter how much she tells herself to do it, she can’t bring herself to pull the cloth barrier off.

It takes her several long moments to notice that something doesn’t look quite right about the outline of the body; the stature is small enough to be about right, but there’s something… _off_ and unsettling about the ridges and valleys of the white canvas.

When she figures it out, Nicole almost throws up right there and then. She retches - _hard_ \- and it’s jarring enough to startle Wynonna out of her fugue state.

Wynonna disentangles their hands and grips her thigh hard, eyes wild as she leans in close. “Nicole??”

Hands shaking violently, she curls them into fists and presses them into her knees, voice quavering as she avoids Wynonna’s eye by staring up at the cross bar holding the bell up, “You know how Gagnon said that identifying features had been removed?”

The grip on her knee tightens. “Yeah…”

“Wy, the head--” Nicole presses a fist to her mouth and retches again, stomach acid burning her esophagus but going no further. She breathes deeply, eyes watering, and tilts her head back again. Her voice is barely above a whisper as she says, “She’s been decapitated. The head… it’s missing.”

Wynonna makes a strangled noise in her throat and her grip tightens to the point that Nicole has no doubt she’ll have five perfectly shaped finger marks in her leg by the evening. Leaning forward, the Earp heir yanks back the white sheet with her free hand, and as Nicole predicted, the body is headless - removed with almost surgical precision.

And oh, it’s so, _so_ much worse without the sheet.

The body has been very deliberately staged; the hands have been crossed over the stomach, fingers entwined, and the arms, shoulders, and knees have been bordered by bricks to keep the body from shifting. Where the head should be, there’s a teddy bear arranged in a way to look as if the bear’s head was a mock replacement for the real one.

Bile rises once more in Nicole’s throat and she swallows it back down. What kind of fucking sicko did something like this??

(Right. Stupid question. The serial killer Revenant kind.)

She feels herself start to spiral, her mind running through all the other twisted scenarios and potentially sick things that have happened to this body - to _Waverly_. It’s nauseating and heart-wrenching and mind-boggling to the point she has to lean forward until her forehead is resting on her knees, the weight of it all threatening to crush her completely.

_Stop._

She needs to focus. She needs to pull it together, for everyone’s sake.

Nicole inhales sharply through her nose and shoves everything she’s feeling into a small box that she slams the lid on and crams into the deepest, darkest corner of her mind. The body is still unidentified which means there’s still a chance that this may _not_ be Waverly. She just has to find a way to prove it - to herself and others.

Forcing herself into ‘Officer Haught’ mode, she begins to catalogue everything about the body with a hawk-like focus.

The body type, weight, and height are definitely about right, though maybe on the thin side. The musculature of the body doesn’t look to be defined enough to be her girlfriend, but it’s hard to be sure of what someone’s muscles would look like after spending a month in captivity with a psycho.

Unfortunately, the clothes are, without a doubt, Waverly’s… The body is dressed in that stupidly adorable cheetah print jacket she wears all the time, skin-tight, high-waisted black jeans, a black crop-top with flowers printed along the neckline, and little black ankle boots - the exact outfit that Nicole had teased Waverly about the morning of her disappearance.

 _“Waves, you are the_ only _person I know who can ever wear out-dated cheetah print and flowers in the same outfit and still make it look so dang good.” Nicole grins and rolls her eyes fondly at her girlfriend across the kitchen._

_Waverly beams at her and crosses the small space before draping her arms around Nicole’s neck. Nicole instinctively runs her hands across the other woman’s ribs and down her sides before gripping her hips loosely._

_Waverly giggles and plays with the little hairs at the base of Nicole’s neck, making her skin goosebump down to her arms, “And_ you _are still the only person I know who could ever wear those police khakis and still have an amazing butt.” Her voice lowers some in a crappy imitation of Nicole’s, “It’s like… top shelf, man.”_

_“Baby…” Nicole groans with a half-laugh and drops her head onto Waverly’s shoulder, hiding a small smile in cheetah-print faux-fur. “It’s been like, two years. Are you and Wynonna ever goin’ to let me live that down?”_

_“Nope. Never.” Laughing, Waverly wraps her arms around Nicole’s head and hugs her close, kissing behind her ear as Nicole returns the hug. “Now, go save the day, Officer Haught.”_

Blinking out of the memory, Nicole presses a hand to her mouth and breathes through her nose, fighting back the wave of emotions that have exploded back out of their box. Roughly, she shoves them back in and tries to re-compose herself.

Everything about the circumstances suggests that this is Waverly, but Nicole… she doesn’t want to believe it - can’t believe it - because despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, there is a small but incredibly defiant part of her that’s telling her that Waverly is still out there.

Gagnon said that all identifiable traits had been removed which meant the head (Nicole’s stomach churns again at the thought) and most likely the skin of the fingertips. What it didn’t mean was other identifiable marks… Marks that people might miss or discount, if one didn’t know what to look for.

An idea on how to identify the body begins to form as she appraises it again.

Pulling her work gloves out of her jacket, she slips them on and leans forward, pulling the edge of the jacket down to reveal the side of the body exposed by the crop top. Nicole tries to gently unlace the fingers and pull the arm away, but rigor mortis has almost completely set in and it’s making it difficult.

“What are you doing?” Wynonna’s voice is cracked and distant as she watches Nicole.

“I’m tryin’ to move the arm enough so I can see the ribs better, but I don’t want to break the rigor that’s set in. I don’t want to contaminate or alter the crime scene too much.”

“But why? It’s clearly… it’s clearly her.” Wynonna’s voice breaks on the last word and Nicole can hear the tears threatening to clog the other woman’s throat.

“I know Waves’ body better than _anyone_ , Wynonna, and I don’t think this is it. First off, there’s no freckle on the left side of the throat.” She gestures to the point at the base of (what’s left of) the throat, near the collarbone, where said freckle should be before she pushes up the right side of the crop top and bra and scans the discolored flesh. Narrowing her gaze and leaning closer, she looks for the tell-tale sign of a scar. She’s not seeing anything - the skin looks completely unblemished - and part of her (guiltily) relaxes in relief: it’s not her. “Secondly, remember when she got grazed by that bullet? Well, she still has the scar - it’s faded, but not so much that it isn’t noticeable, and there’s no scar here. If I could just get a little light, I can show you--”

“Stop! Just stop!” Wynonna wails suddenly, causing Nicole to jump.

She chances a glance back at Wynonna and her heart completely shatters at the devastated look on the other woman’s pale face.

“Wyno--”

The other woman curls in on herself, wrapping her arms around her middle and rocking back and forth. “She’s gone, Nicole. My… my baby girl is gone.” A choked sob breaks free from her and she curls in tighter.

Nicole shuffles on her knees over to Wynonna and slings an arm over her shoulders and pulls her close. She leans their heads together and murmurs softly, “I know it’s hard to keep faith, Wy. I _know_ it is, but please trust me when I say I don’t think this is her.”

Wynonna shoves Nicole off of her, knocking her roughly onto her butt and stands up angrily. “What is wrong with you, Haught? Why are you so completely incapable of seeing what’s right in front of you?! Are you so fucked up on pills now that you can’t separate reality from whatever fantasyland you’re living in?! She’s _gone_!”

Turning on her heel, Wynonna rapidly storms away, flinging open the hatch and disappearing from view down the ladder.

Bewildered, Nicole blinks a few times before shifting back to her knees.

So, either Jeremy or Doc _did_ spill the beans about what really happened, in spite of her asking them not to say anything. She’d had a hunch one of them had since Dolls and Wynonna started acting weird, but that was a problem for another time. Right now, she needed to stop Wynonna because regardless of what Wynonna seems to think, Nicole knows she’s right.

She just needs to get her to stop and listen because the other thing Nicole knows is that if Wynonna stops believing that Waverly’s alive and out there, then the others will, too, and Waverly needs _all_ of them.

Nicole pulls the white sheet back over the body before standing and hurrying after the other woman.

Struggling down the ladder, she drops onto the landing with a pained huff and quickly brushes past a baffled Gagnon, Doc, Dolls, and Jeremy - whom she hadn’t realized had finally shown up nor that Gagnon had gone down a level to meet with them.

“Wynonna! Wynonna, stop! Please just listen to me! She’s still out there somewhere and she _needs_ us! We can’t give up now!” Nicole calls after her as she chases her down the stairs, exiting onto the mezzanine shortly after Wynonna.

Spinning around part way across the floor, Wynonna throws her hands up, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Wake _up_ , Nicole! Don’t you fucking get it?! Why can’t you get it through your drug-addled brain that she’s not miraculously going to show up again like Willa did?! You’re fucking _delusional_ if you think she’s still out there! She’s _dead_ and her body is up there,” Wynonna points furiously at the ceiling, “to prove it! So just _fucking_ _stop already_!”

Wynonna strides away again before Nicole can formulate a response, heading towards the staircase leading back down to the main floor.

“Wait!” Nicole stalks after her, voice raising to an almost shout, “That wasn’t-- That wasn’t her, Wynonna! I _know_ it wasn’t! Waverly is not dead!” With her longer legs, she manages to catch up quickly. She’s aware that she sounds like a broken record, but she doesn’t know what else to say to get through to her. She reaches out and grabs Wynonna’s arm, voice softer, “You and I, we’re supposed to be in this together, Wy. We can’t give up now.”

Wynonna hunches over and hangs her head, her whole body trembling with frenetic energy. Nicole gently tugs on her arm, urging the brunette to turn around and face her.

Without warning, Wynonna screams an apoplectic, “FUCK YOU!” and the next thing Nicole knows is the exploding pain of the other woman’s fist colliding with the left side of her jaw. She staggers from the blow and falls against the railing of the mezzanine, barely catching herself by the armpit.

Working her jaw and rubbing the tender bruise already forming, pure, barely-contained fury floods Nicole’s veins as she pushes herself up and off the railing, the tangy, coppery taste of blood coating her mouth for the second time in only a few days. Probing her tongue around her mouth, she finds the source on the right side of her cheek, the flesh ragged and torn from where she bit into it.

Nicole grimaces as she hinges her jaw side-to-side while pressing on the joint, “No, you know what - fuck _you_ , Earp.” She takes a step away from the railing and towards Wynonna, stopping a couple inches shy of the other woman. Nicole leans in close and continues in a low, dangerous tone, “Even if Waverly is dead - which I _know_ she’s not - it’s your fuckin’ job to bring this shithead to justice. Regardless of me being ‘delusional’, you should be stoppin’ at _nothing_ to find him with me, not giving up like a pathetic fuckin’ coward. If the roles were reversed, you and I both know that Waverly would never give up on _you_.” Nicole spits out a glob of blood at Wynonna’s feet.

Wynonna bares her teeth at Nicole. “Get the fuck out of my face, Haughtshit.” She shoves Nicole back several steps. “You have no right to call me a coward. _You’re_ the one who refuses to face the facts.”

Nicole scoffs in disdain and shakes her head, “Waverly used to tell me all these stories about you when you were kids, you know. She’d tell me story after story of how _happy_ she was when you were in her life and how much she missed you when you weren’t. She’d tell me all of these things she loved about you, but, whether she meant to or not, she also made it _abundantly_ clear how many times you disappointed her when she needed you most. It was jarring to me because, in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never _once_ not been there when she needed you. Not _once_. And though we’ve had our differences, one of the things I have always respected and admired about you is your unwaverin’ devotion to your sister. Until now, I suppose.”

Running a hand through her hair, she gives a harsh laugh, eyes locking onto Wynonna’s, “You are a _lot_ of things, Earp, but I never imagined you being a quitter, and yet, here we are. I guess this is just another disappoint you can add to the list, huh?”

She knows it’s a low blow as she says it, but she is just so… helplessly furious, at everything. She feels like she’s the only one who’s still pulling for Waverly and she _needs_ Wynonna to be with her on this, and sometimes, the only way to get the stubborn Earp to really listen was to treat her with tough love - even if, in this instance, it was probably slightly more on the cruel side.

(Unfortunately, using tough love on Wynonna was like playing a really horrible game of Russian roulette; sometimes it worked out and sometimes… well…)

She sees something snaps in Wynonna’s eyes and Nicole only has a split-second warning before there’s a hundred-twenty pound ball of screaming fury launching bodily at her.

The force of Wynonna’s tackle knocks the wind out of her and they both go down to the floor, a searing pain and a sick crack echoing in Nicole’s ears as her left shoulder takes the full force of the fall.

Adrenaline shoots through her system once again as Wynonna straddles her hips and starts raining uncontrolled blows down on her, left and right, screaming and crying in rage.

Nicole defends herself as best she can with her good arm, but Wynonna is unrelenting and manages to get in several excruciating and mildly disorienting hits to her torso and face.

Finally, spotting an opening after Wynonna lands a glancing shot to her cheek, Nicole jabs her palm up into Wynonna’s chin, snapping her head back and shifting her weight enough for Nicole to thrust her hips up and rotate, throwing the other woman off of her.

Her vision slightly blurry, Nicole tries to scramble to her feet, but Wynonna is quicker (and not _nearly_ as injured). A heavy boot connects with her side and she cries out as she crashes to the floor again. Another kick, this time to her chest, has her curling into a fetal position, gasping for air.

She squeezes her eyes closed as another kick is aimed her way, but the hit never comes. Ears ringing, she lays there for several seconds, waiting for the blow, before she dares open her eyes.

Blinking slowly to try and get her vision to clear, she notes that there are multiple Wynonnas moving in her field of vision.

Ho’ boy, that’s not good.

The world swaying dangerously, she blinks a few more times before her vision clears enough for her to figure out that she wasn’t seeing double; Dolls, Doc, Jeremy, Gagnon, and a couple of uniforms were on the mezzanine with them now.

Jeremy is off to one side, leaning awkwardly against the organ and looking shell-shocked, Doc is holding Wynonna back by both arms - though it seems unnecessary since she looks almost as shell-shocked as Jeremy -, and Dolls is standing protectively in front of them, arguing with the two Metro officers. Based on the body language, it looks like they’re attempting to get past Dolls to put handcuffs on Wynonna.

Gagnon is surveying the scene from a spot a few feet in front of Nicole, a hard look in his eyes and his hand hovering subtly by his holstered weapon as he stands protectively in front of her.

The argument between Dolls and the officers seems to grow more heated, all three of them reaching for their weapons, but before anyone can draw, Nicole calls out in a raspy voice, “Stop. Leave her alone.”

Both parties look her way and stand down as she manages to push herself into a seated position. One of the officers looks at her in confusion, hand still twitching by his gun, “But ma’am, she needs to be placed under arrest. She assaulted you - we all saw it.”

Nicole reaches out with her good arm, waving her hand so Gagnon moves over to her. He carefully helps her climb to her feet, a steadying hand at her hip.

She wraps her right arm around her aching ribs, left arm hanging uselessly at her side, and spits out another glob of blood. “I’m not goin’ to press charges, so leave her be. Besides, I kinda started it.”

“But ma’am--”

“I said leave her be.” Nicole grimaces as her ribs twinge painfully. She takes a step towards the stairs but her vision swims and she staggers, barely managing to catch herself on Gagnon’s shoulder. He holds her upright as the world sways and spots of black fleck her still blurry vision. She squeezes his shoulder as she fights back a wave of nausea.

Gagnon’s voice is soft and kind as he asks at a volume only she can hear, “How about I take you to the hospital?”

She lets out a huff of bitter laughter, her voice hoarse, “Yeah, that’d probably be good.”

With a nod, he slips her good arm over his shoulders and grips her utility belt tightly, steering her back towards the stairs. It’s slow going as she half-limps and he half-drags her the rest of the way across the mezzanine.

As they pass the group - who haven’t moved an inch since she stood up -, Gagnon turns his head and shoots Dolls a sharp look, “Deputy Dolls, as a professional courtesy, I will allow you, Mr. Holliday, and Agent Chetri to finish here, but Deputy Earp, you’re no longer welcome at my crime scene.” He turns his attention to the other officers, “Give her fifteen minutes to collect herself and then please escort Deputy Earp from the premises. Arrest her - or any of the others - if they give you any more trouble.”

The officers nod at him and the others have the good sense not to argue. With that, Gagnon continues on, guiding Nicole - who’s been hanging off of him and staring at the ground during the exchange - as gently as he can.

She steadfastly refuses to meet the eyes of the others as they go by; she’s afraid of what she’ll see if she looks.

Anger. Disgust. Pity. _Hate_.

(She’s also terrified of what they’ll see in hers. Anger. Self-hatred. Loneliness. _Fear_.)

God. What has she done??

She knew provoking Wynonna could backfire, but… this?

Never in a million years did Nicole think that Wynonna would try to kick the ever-living shit out of her. Suckerpunch her once? Sure. Beat her into near-unconsciousness? Never. And yet, that’s exactly what had happened.

And the fact that none of the people she considered her family - _none of them_ \- went to her or checked to make sure she was okay afterwards hurt more than Wynonna’s beating ever could.

In an instant, it feels like she’s lost her entire family all over again, and, this time, it really _was_ her fault.

A deep hollowness settles in Nicole’s chest.

Gagnon was the only one to put himself between her and Wynonna. He was the only one there to help her, and now he was the only one taking her to the hospital. And he was doing all of this without even really knowing her. It shouldn’t be him, but it is.

He moves her down the staircase and out through the church in a daze - her brain so far away that she barely registers anything else going on around her.

They’re hobbling down the main pathway, heading towards the parking lot attached to the side of the church, when a man in a dark sweatshirt leaning against the stone column of the gate manages to catch Nicole’s attention and pull her from her own head.

He looks completely at odds with their surroundings and the lingering atmosphere of the crime scene, casually puffing on a cigarette and watching them cross towards the detective’s car like he’s got all the time in the world.

It’s not until they get a little closer that Nicole realizes that the man looks familiar. Her vision is blurry and her mind hazy, but she knows she’s seen him before. She doesn’t know where she’s seen him and can’t think of a name, but she _knows_ him.

A tingling, electric sensation dances down her fingers and her heart tugs painfully when the guy throws his cigarette onto the ground and grinds it out with his shoe, looking back up at her with lecherous leer and a wink.

Nicole blinks and the guy is gone - completely disappeared as if he’d never been there in the first place.

What the _fuck_?

She falters and Gagnon clings onto her harder, shooting her a concerned look. He must note the spooked expression on her face because he cranes his head around, searching for what she saw. “What is it?”

Shakily, Nicole answers, “The guy… the killer-- I think… I think I just saw him by the gate. He was there, smokin’, and he… he smiled and winked at me then vanished.”

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“Sorta? My vision is still a bit blurry, but from what I could make out, he was probably about six foot with dark hair and light skin. Middle aged, maybe? Wearin’ a dark hoodie with the hood up and jeans. And… I got this feelin’ that I knew him from somewhere - like I’ve definitely seen him before.”

Gagnon eyes their surroundings on high alert but looks at her again when she sags in exhaustion against him some more. “Okay. Let’s get you to the car first and then I’ll put out a BOLO while I check it out. Then we’ll get you to the hospital.”

“Okay.” She breathes out with a weak nod.

It takes awhile for them to get to Gagnon’s squad car after that because he basically has to carry her, but they eventually make it, and she lets out a sigh of relief as he gradually lowers her into the passenger seat. The adrenaline in her system is fading fast and every ache and pain - big or small - in her body is beginning to make itself known… and there were a _lot_ of them.

She leans her throbbing cheek against the cold window, hoping the cool glass will ease the pain some. It’s definitely not the worst pain she’s feeling, but it’s the only one that she has a ready solution for, so she’s going to milk it for all its worth.

After turning on the car so that the heat would work, the detective leaves her to canvas the area surrounding the gate. In the solitude of another officer’s squad car, Nicole’s eyes slide closed while the interior slowly warms up, her thoughts naturally drifting to Waverly.

When they find her (a dark, spiteful little voice corrects her in the back of her head: _if_ they find her)… When Waverly learns what Nicole has become in her absence - what she’s done and said to the others… will she forgive her?

Did Nicole even deserve that forgiveness?

She was starting to believe maybe not.

She was hurting herself and others she loved and for what? To what end? She knows that this isn’t what Waverly would have wanted - she’s known that the whole time - so, why is she doing it?

Why did she intentionally provoke Wynonna? Why did she lash out at Jeremy? Why hasn’t she been trying harder with Dolls and Doc? Why hasn’t she done what every other rational human would do in her position and try to move on?

Nicole exhales tremulously, a sob catching in her throat. Her whole body is screaming at her in agony now, but none of it compares to the ache in what’s left of her heart. She knows that the answer to all of these questions is because she loves Waverly with _everything_ that she is, but that answer seems to be doing more harm than good lately.

Her love for Waverly - and her subsequent refusal to believe that she’s dead - is starting to feel like a poison Nicole’s too weak to take the antidote for and it’s killing her.

It’s killing her.

Tears start to slowly leak down her cheeks and she’s too tired to even wipe them away, letting them drip off the tip of her nose and chin onto her lap.

It’s about ten minutes before Gagnon returns. Ten long minutes that Nicole spends torturing herself over everything that’s happened in the past five weeks; asking herself what she could have done differently. What she could have done to find Waverly sooner. What she should have done to avoid imploding the family she had left.

Gagnon climbs into the driver’s seat and turns to her with a sad smile, “How about I take you to the hospital now?” Nicole sniffles and nods meekly, wiping her nose on her sleeve. He places his hand carefully on her knee - mindful not to jostle her bad arm - and squeezes gently, “Deputy Haught, I know you and I don’t really know each other, but I’m here to listen, if you need me to. I… know a little about what you’re going through.”

“Nicole.” She whispers faintly, “I think we’ve reached the point where you can call me Nicole. And thank you, Detective, but I don’t really feel like talkin’ about it.”

He nods, “Okay, then.” Shifting the car into reverse, he backs out of the parking spot slowly, “But if you ever change your mind, Nicole… I’m here for you, day or night.” Gagnon then shifts the car into drive and pulls away from the church before quietly adding, “And please, call me Luke.” He turns out onto the road in front of the church and starts them towards the hospital without saying anything more.

They ride in silence - each lost in their own thoughts - until a short while later, when they’re pulling into the parking lot of the emergency room.

“I’ll come in with you and wait until they take you back.”

Nicole protests weakly, “That’s not necessary. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re in no condition to argue and you know it. Now, sit tight. I’ll be right back.” With a look that brokers no arguments, Gagnon gets out of the car and runs across the lot to the ER before coming back around to her door with a wheelchair.

When he opens the door, she vehemently protests at first, but is thankful for it very quickly because she finds that she doesn’t even have the strength to move from the car seat to the wheelchair unaided, let alone try and struggle to the doors under her own steam.

Her thoughts are wry and scornful as she adjusts in the seat and considers what she’s put her body through in the past few days - it’s really no wonder she can barely move.

Once she’s settled as comfortably as possible with how much pain she’s in, he pushes her across the lot and they enter into the emergency room lobby, where he parks her beside an empty row of seating before checking in with reception and coming back with a clipboard of paperwork.

He holds it out to her and she just stares at it, utterly drained. No matter how hard she wills her good arm to move towards it and grab it, it’s about as useless as her left arm and refuses to cooperate.

Gagnon gives her a sympathetic look and sits down beside her, pen poised on the papers. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Together, they fill out her paperwork - Nicole closing her eyes against the dizzying sway that’s started up again while Gagnon diligently writes down the answers she mumbles  - and a few minutes later, a triage nurse comes out to collect her.

Gagnon stands to greet the woman and lays a gentle hand on Nicole’s shoulder. “I’ll come check on you later, okay?”

Nicole nods numbly and he turns to exit the ER.

Her face and ribs are throbbing so much she can barely breathe and it takes an enormous effort to open her eyes again, but as the nurse is wheeling her towards the hallway that leads to the exam rooms, she tilts her head back and manages to call out, “Luke.” The triage nurse rolls her to a stop.

He pauses just shy of the doors to the exit and tilts his head at her curiously.

She frowns as her jaw clicks painfully but manages to rasp out, “Thank you.”

Gagnon smiles at her softly and nods before exiting the building.

“Now then, let’s get you checked out, shall we?” The triage nurse smiles down at her kindly and Nicole nods, the other woman pushing her wheelchair through the double-doors leading to the ER wing.

She was hopeful that none of her injuries were too serious because, as much as she thinks she probably deserves them all, she still needed to be able to search for Waverly and she couldn’t do that from a hospital bed.

The doors start to close behind her with the soft whir of the automatic opener disengaging and the nurse steers her into an empty exam room a good ways down the hall.

Another nurse shows up from around the corner and the two of them carefully ease her into a standing position and methodically strip her of her clothing. They drape a hospital gown on her and help her onto the hospital bed where they hook her up to all the necessary monitors with practiced hands.

In all, the whole ordeal maybe takes six minutes from start to finish, and with a warm, “The doctor will be in shortly.” both nurses take their leave, the curtain rattling against the rod as it’s drawn closed behind them.

Sighing, Nicole situates herself as best she can in the bed and closes her eyes.

She’d find out how bad it was when she finds out and there was nothing for her to do but wait until then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the dichotomy between the levity and the anger throughout the chapter really helped you guys feel how unstable and close to their breaking points everyone (especially Nicole) is right now. Finding that balance between humor and angst was part of what tripped me up this chapter - I didn't want it to feel inorganic but I don't know if I quite got it?
> 
> Also, if you were wondering what church I was envisioning while writing, it’s loosely based on (but much larger than) St. John’s Catholic Church in Kilkenny, Ireland. It was one of many beautiful churches I got to see when I was traveling throughout the country and thought it was perfect for this. And the belfry is based a bit on Big Ben’s. https://i0.wp.com/farm4.static.flickr.com/3036/2587352961_55f32b4e7d.jpg?resize=474%2C304
> 
> Let me know what your thoughts, questions, concerns are in the comments section? Thanks, friends! See you next chapter.


	6. The Lone Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole finds herself in a hospital (again). 
> 
> Pasts and motivations are revealed and new bonds are formed. 
> 
> Drastic actions are taken as the team find themselves splintering apart.
> 
>  
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: BRIEF mentions/allusions to suicide/self-harm contemplation/ideation, incredibly brief mentions of homophobia, and very, VERY brief mentions of sexual assault (in a police report)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *taps on mic* Hello? Is this thing on? Anyone still with me here? No? Okay.
> 
> Well, as luck would have it, I'm not dead and I somehow miraculously got a chapter done before Christmas. Woo! There's honestly no good reason why this took so long, but hey, it's here now AND it's almost 12k words. Saturnalian miracles do happen.
> 
> All mistakes are my own, etc.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it.

**=== Day 35 ===**

 

Nicole comes to little by little, groggily rolling her head back and forth in the pillow to take in her surroundings, momentarily not recognizing where she was.

The lack of recognition doesn’t last long, though; off-white walls with a similarly colored tile floor to match are kind of a big clue, and, if that wasn’t already enough, the monitors staggered all around her are a dead giveaway.

The hospital. Again.

Right.

Nicole sighs. She holds down the button that brings the head of her bed up and adjusts some in her new reclined position until she’s comfortable again. At least it’s a nice hospital room she’s in - definitely newer than the one in Purgatory she stayed in just a few nights ago. Airier, too.

Weak, early morning sunlight filters through the window that takes up a majority of the far wall, only partially illuminating the room at this time of day, but she imagines it must make the room feel pleasantly large and open when the sun is all the way up.

She hopes she won’t still be here this afternoon to find out.

Some birds flit past, holding her attention, and she watches them dance around each other in the sky, untroubled by anything and living their simple bird lives.

Eventually, Nicole gets tired of staring at the world outside; it’s obliviousness to her suffering and how it happily continues on without her - without Waverly - makes her feel incredibly bitter, so she turns her face away and continues surveying the room.

On the second pass, her eyes catch on the bag of morphine hanging with her IV drip and she lets out a humorless chuckle - that explains the lingering floaty feeling in her limbs and brain. Nicole wonders how long it’s been since she last had a dose. Based on how her whole body seems to be throbbing intensely, she suspects it’s been awhile.

With her good arm, she locates and clicks the button that delivers a dose of the opiate to her system and, letting her head drop back into the pillow, she closes her eyes and sinks into the feeling as it burns through her veins.

Most of the time, she hates the feeling of being impaired in any way, but right now… it would serve as a nice reprieve from everything, so she’s willing to enjoy it while it lasts.

It’s not until quite a while later that her drug-induced peace is disturbed. A quiet knock on the door and the shuffling of multiple pairs of shoes entering her room prickles at the edges of her awareness.

“Nicole? Are you awake?” A hesitant, male voice calls into her room.

She can’t be bothered to open her eyes or respond - it was taking too much effort as it was to keep from drifting off again.

“Nicole…?” A new, female voice quietly calls to her, much closer this time, and a hand gently shakes her good shoulder. She groans a little but otherwise gives no other response.

Exhaustion and the morphine tug at her consciousness, attempting to drag her back into sleep. She almost lets them but the same voice stops her.

“Nicole, I need you to wake up. I need to do a check-up and you have a visitor here to see you.” Whoever it is shakes her shoulder a little more vigorously.

Nicole sighs internally and manages to blink her eyes open. It takes a second for her eyes to focus on the kind face of a doctor she doesn’t recognize hovering over her.

The doctor smiles at her and gives her shoulder a light squeeze. “Good morning, Nicole. My name is Doctor Zoe Croft and I’m the hospitalist on-duty today. I’m sorry for waking you, but I need to run some tests to make sure your brain activity is normal.”

Nicole nods weakly, “I remember the doctor last night saying something about needing to check for another concussion this mornin’… something about how my brain could rapidly swell up or something?”

“The fact that you remember that is already a good sign.” Doctor Croft starts taking her vitals while continuing, “He was referring to a condition called Second Impact Syndrome, or SIS. It’s very rare, especially in adults, but considering you received a grade two concussion only a few days ago and then were hit in the head again yesterday, we want to make _absolutely_ sure that your brain shows no signs of additional trauma. How’re your pain levels right now? From zero to ten, ten being the worst pain you’ve ever experienced.”

“The pain in my head only or my pain overall?”

“Both would be great, actually.”

Closing her eyes and fighting the pull of sleep, Nicole takes stock of her body before opening them again and answering, “At the moment, my head is probably a one or two and the rest of me is probably a five or a six… but I also recently had a dose of morphine.”

The doctor nods and checks her eyes with a pen light, flicking it between her eyes and away while Nicole resists the urge to flinch. “And if you hadn’t had the pain medication, what do you think it’d be?”

“My head would probably be a three and the rest of me, a seven or an eight.”

Nodding along, Doctor Croft moves to the small laptop nestled amongst the monitors and begins typing her notes in, “And what would you say is hurting the most?”

“It’s a toss up between my shoulder and breathin’ in general.” Nicole considers for a second, “My face doesn’t feel too great, either.”

“I can imagine.” The other woman gives her a wry smile, “I’ve seen injuries similar to yours before in auto accident patients, but I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who’s managed to get them from two separate occasions in less than a week.”

Nicole gives a humorless huff of a laugh, “Lucky me.”

The doctor gives her conciliatory smile, “I would say that you _were_ lucky, all things considered. From what I hear, you took quite a beating, yet you only ended up with a few injuries, namely a fractured collarbone, the hairline fracture in your cheekbone, and a couple of bruised lower ribs.”

A flash of anger rears its ugly head inside of Nicole and she scoffs but bites her tongue on a retort; the doctor can think what she likes about how “ _lucky_ ” Nicole was, it didn’t change the fact that she was laid out in another goddamn hospital bed. It didn’t change the fact that it was Wynonna who put her there, and it sure as hell didn’t change the fact that Waverly was still out there somewhere.

“I’m just going to check on your chest and torso now.” Doctor Croft either doesn’t notice Nicole’s anger or chooses to ignore it as she draws the curtain closed to block off the view from the room’s entry, “I want to make sure there isn’t any additional swelling or bruising that wasn’t there last night, which means I’m going to have to adjust your gown some, okay?”

“Sure.” Nicole relaxes as much as she can as the doctor lifts her gown to examine her battered body, wincing a little as the other woman gently prods her ribs and chest. The chill of the stethoscope being pressed to her bare skin is a bit of a shock as she’s asked to breathe in and out as deeply as she can, the cool metal contrasting sharply with the burning pull and ache of her bruised torso.

After a few more minutes of examination, Doctor Croft carefully adjusts the gown back into place. “Well, nothing is jumping out at me at the moment. Your lungs sound good and there doesn’t seem to be any signs of internal bleeding, herniations, or lacerations to any of your other organs, but I want to get you scanned again, just to make sure. We’ll go ahead with another CT scan and another MRI for both your head and your torso, and - barring any abnormal or concerning findings - we’ll hopefully get you on your feet and out of here later today. How does that sound?”

Relief washes through Nicole; the sooner she’s out of here, the sooner she can start looking for Waverly again. “Sounds good to me.”

“Excellent. I’ll send out the orders and a technician should be up soon to collect you for them. Until then, are you feeling up to having a visitor? There’s a kind gentleman who’s been waiting patiently outside your room for about an hour now.” Doctor Croft checks her watch and types a few things into the laptop.

“A visitor? Who?” Nicole furrows her brow, unsure of who it could be; it couldn’t be Dolls because “kind” isn’t exactly a descriptor one who doesn’t know him very well would ever use and it couldn’t be Jeremy because there’s no way he could wait patiently for an hour for anything. Maybe it was Doc? But even that seemed unlikely, what with everything that’s happened in the last few days. And he’s been there an hour? She could have sworn that whoever called her name first had only done so a few minutes before the doctor had…

The other woman pulls the curtain back open. “I’m not sure of his name - I wasn’t the one who spoke with him. If it helps any, I believe one of the nurses mentioned him being a detective? I can ask him to leave, if you’d like.”

Luke. Of course.

“No, no - that’s okay. He can come in.”

“I’ll send him in, then.” Doctor Croft smiles at her and gestures to the buttons on the bed, “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call for one of the staff. I’ll be back later to check in with you after your results are back, okay?”

Nicole gives her a small smile. “Okay. Thank you, Doctor.”

The other woman nods and exits the room. Nicole hears a brief conversation between the doctor and Luke outside of her room but can’t make out the words.

A minute later, the detective cautiously enters her room with an obnoxiously large “Get Well Soon” balloon and a rainbow-colored plush unicorn toy. 

Nicole’s eyes widen as she takes in the sight, “Luke, you really did not need to get those.”

Luke shrugs sheepishly, “I know but when in Rome, right? Do you like them?”

Snorting a small laugh, Nicole shakes her head. “It’s a little overkill, but… I really appreciate the gesture.”

Luke smiles at her and lets the balloon loose in the corner of her room. He pulls a chair next to her bed and hands her the unicorn toy before sitting down.

Taking it with her good hand, she twists it around to examine it, “Why a unicorn?”

“That one actually isn’t from me.”

Nicole raises an eyebrow and sets the plush down in her lap when Luke pulls out a folded up piece of paper from his pocket and holds it out to her. She takes it from him and clumsily unfolds it with one hand, taking in the wrinkles in the paper and the messy scrawl. 

Nicole’s heart sinks.

“She asked me to give the toy and note to you last night, but I didn’t want to wake you up when I came to check on you.”

Nodding stiffly, Nicole tracks her eyes over the writing and reads the letter again. 

 

_Haught,_

 

~~_I don’t even know how_ ~~

~~_Waverly was always the one good with words, but_ ~~  

 _I’m so_ _fucking_ _sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry._ _~~I know that this note~~ _ _I fucked up and I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to. I want to try and fix this, if you think you can forgive me._

 _I know you_ ~~_probably_ ~~ _need some space, but I’m here_ ~~_when_ ~~ _if you ever want to talk to me again._

_God, Nicole. I don’t even know the words to tell you how sorry I am._

 

_\- Wynonna_

 

Nicole crumples the letter in her fist. Tears of grief or anger (she’s not sure which - probably both, if she’s being honest) threaten to leak out, so she squeezes her eyes tight.

“Nicole…? Are you okay?”

Burning rage and anguish threaten to choke her as she whispers, “I’m so _angry_ , Luke - _so_ angry.” Nicole swallows hard, her voice growing louder as she speaks, “I’m angry at Wynonna, I’m angry at the guys, but most of all… I’m angry with myself!” Nicole flings the piece of paper across the room as hard as she can, relishing in the pain the motion causes her whole body. “I’m _torn_ between feelin’ like I deserve every single bad thing that’s happened to me and feeling _furious_ that it’s happening. Yesterday, I felt like I was the one in the wrong, and today I feel like it was Wynonna! In a few minutes or hours, I don’t know how I’ll feel about any of this! It’s like I can’t control my emotions or my thoughts anymore and I don’t know what to _DO_!” She’s practically shouting by the end of it and her chest is heaving painfully, tears of fury and frustration swimming in her eyes. 

Her outburst is met with silence as Luke sits there contemplating her quietly. He watches her with careful understanding as she begins to calm back down, regret creeping up on her as she registers the pain the fit has caused her poor body. Nicole sighs and tries to let herself relax back into the bed, doing her best to ignore the pain coursing through her entire frame. “I’m sorry. That was totally-”

Luke interrupts her before she can finish the thought, “Fine, Nicole. That was totally fine.” He smiles at her softly, “What you’re feeling right now - all of what you’re feeling right now - is completely valid. What you’ve been through, and what you’re going through, it’s… hard; perhaps the hardest, most painful, most heartbreaking thing you will ever go through. Feeling angry, scared, confused, or any other emotion about that? That’s just being human.” 

Nodding, Nicole sniffles and wipes her eyes and nose with the back of her good hand and takes a deep breath, his reassuring words helping to bring some of the tumult of her emotions back down to a more manageable level.

Luke gives her another moment to collect herself before leaning forward in his chair. He rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together loosely, eyeing her carefully, “Can I ask you something?”

Nicole sighs out an exhausted, “Sure.” as she tilts her head back into the pillow and closes her eyes.

“Tell me about Waverly?” 

Her chest clenches painfully at the casual and unexpected mention of the other woman. She cracks one eye open and stares at him sidelong, trying to figure out what would prompt such an abrupt change in conversation. The expression on his face is open and warm, genuine interest shining in his eyes, and Nicole realizes that he’s trying to take her mind off of the current situation.

She lays there for few moments, debating whether or not she wants to - or is even capable of - talking about Waverly right now, but the soft, sympathetic way that Luke is looking at her is what finally makes her speak. Perhaps talking about her may bring about some sort of catharsis for Nicole. “What do you want to know?”

Huffing a laugh, he leans back and crosses one leg over the other and rests his clasped hands on his stomach, “How you met? When you knew you were in love? Honestly, whatever you want to tell me.”

Nicole closes her eyes again and smiles softly as she lets out a small laugh, “The first time I ever met Waverly was at the bar she worked at. A beer tap broke while she was cleanin’ it and soaked her to the bone, and the only thing I could think to say was, ‘I didn’t know Shorty’s had wet t-shirt competitions.’”

“And that worked?”

Snorting, Nicole tilts her head to the side and opens her eyes to look at him fully, his eyebrow raised and face split with a cheeky grin. Rolling her eyes, she laughs, “Not exactly. I was informed she was in a relationship with a ‘boy-man’. Champ Hardy. God, he was somethin’ else; exactly the type of ‘boy-man’ you’d think he was with a name like that. Anyway, after that encounter, I didn’t want to push her or make her feel uncomfortable or any of that, so I backed off. I was content to just be her friend if that’s all she wanted. I was honestly happy to be anything she wanted me to be as long as it meant she was in my life. She’s… she’s _wicked_ smart, the kindest soul I’ve ever met, and so, so strong in spite of all the hardship she’s endured, and she’s endured a _lot_. She’s sunshine and steel personified - the literal embodiment of an angel on earth. Who wouldn’t want someone like that in their life?”

Luke smiles at her softly, “Who indeed. She sounds lovely.”

“The loveliest.” Nicole sighs and hugs the unicorn plush to her body, “I felt like the luckiest person on earth when I found out she felt the same way about me that I felt about her. Loving her… it’s the easiest thing in the world to me.” Nicole lets out a sigh, “We’re not perfect - not even close. We’ve fought, miscommunicated, lost our tempers, and hurt each other, but… we’re committed to loving each other, so we’ve always put in the effort to make it right. It’s like that quote… ‘I like you because, and I love you despite.’ No matter what was happening, we committed ourselves to loving the other the best way we knew how.”

Luke’s voice is wistful when he answers, “That’s how you know it’s real.”

“Yeah.” Nicole rolls her head back into the pillow and looks up at the ceiling, blinking back a couple of tears, swallowing hard on the encroaching sorrow. She stares at the ceiling for a long time, replaying memories - good and bad - of the past several years of her life, all of them featuring the beautiful brunette who held her heart. More and more of the recent bad memories were making an appearance, though, so to distract herself from letting her mind go down the dark path it wanted to, Nicole shifts her attention back to Luke, “... Can I ask _you_ something?”

Luke shrugs, “Seems only fair.”

“Why did you help me? We barely know each other, so why are you here carin’ for someone who’s no more than a glorified stranger to you?”

Luke laughs, “That’s technically two things.” Nicole shoots him an unimpressed look and he raises a placating hand, “I suppose the answer is the same for both questions: I’ve been where you are.”

“You’ve said that before but it doesn’t actually explain why.”

A contemplative look crosses Luke’s features, “Well… I suppose it’s because I see a bit of myself in you and your situation, and I wish I had had someone there for me when my life completely fell apart. I wish I had had someone to help me come to terms with it, someone who could tell me that things don’t necessarily get better or easier, but they become more manageable, and that there are others out there willing to help so you don’t have to do it all alone. I lost a lot of years drowning in my sorrow, and I don’t want to see anyone else do that, too. So, I’m trying to be that person for someone else.”

Nicole’s heart aches for the resigned grief she hears in his voice, “What happened?”

Luke gives her a sad, wane smile and opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted before he can even start by a knock at the door as a nurse peeks her head in around the door, “Can we come in?”

Nicole throws one last glance at Luke, who smiles reassuringly at her, before nodding at the woman, “Yeah, come on in.”

The nurse pushes the door all the way open and walks in with a cheery young man behind her. “My name is Kelsey and this is one of our technicians, Ty-,” the man waves at Nicole with a big smile, “and we’ve come to collect you for the scans Dr. Croft ordered.”

Luke stands up and smoothes the wrinkles out of his shirt and pants as he smiles at everyone, “And I believe that’s my cue to leave.”

Nicole sits up some, “Wait, Luke-”

Laughing, Luke waves her off, “Don’t worry, Haught. I’m not _leaving_ leaving; I’m just going to go grab something to eat so I’m out of everyone’s way. I’ll be back in a little bit and hopefully I’ll be able to take you home soon, after this is all done, yeah?”

“Home? To Purgatory?” Nicole furrows her brow, “That’s really out of the way for you; you know you don’t have to do that, right? I can find another way to get home.”

“Nonsense. I’m already here, I have the day off, and you need a ride home. No reason to make this more difficult than it has to be.”

Blinking a few times, completely taken aback by the nonchalant and generous offer, Nicole sinks back into the bed, “Well… I mean, if you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” Luke pats her good shoulder gently before moving to the door, “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

Nicole nods, constantly blindsided and dazed with how kind a man she barely knows is, and shifts her attention to the other two people in the room as Luke takes his leave.

The nurse comes closer to her bed and asks her to verify her name and birthday as she starts to remove some of the wires, electrodes, and devices. Meanwhile, the technician starts to hook up her IV drip to a rolling bag rack, and the two make quick work of their preparations.

Ty smiles down at Nicole as he moves to the head of the bed, “Ready to get these scans done?”

Resting back fully into the bed, Nicole gives a lazy thumbs up, “Let’s do it.

 

*

 

In all, the scans take a little over an hour to get done and Nicole is hurting all over and absolutely exhausted by the time they start rolling her back to her room. 

Luke is sitting in a chair near the entry to her room when they get there, - having returned from wherever he disappeared to - scrolling through his phone with a look of consternation that smoothes out immediately once he sees them approaching. He gets up with a welcoming smile and slides his phone into his pocket as he follows them all into the room, “How’d it go?”

Ty and Kelsey quietly get to work hooking Nicole back up to the machines in the room as she answers with a tired shrug, “Don’t know - I was just along for the ride.”

“Dr. Croft should be along shortly to let you know the results.” Kelsey smiles at them both as she sticks on the final electrode, “Is there anything either of us can do for you before we head out?”

Nicole shakes her head with a tired smile for the two hospital staff, “No, I think I’m okay. Thank you.”

Ty taps his finger against the call button on her bed’s control bar with a smile, “Well, if you change your mind, don’t hesitate to call.” And with that, the two leave, shutting the door carefully behind them.

Nicole lets out a weary sigh and closes her eyes as she sinks into the bed, the events of the morning taking their toll. She fumbles blindly at her side for the button for the morphine and presses it gratefully once she finds it. A moment of nausea takes over as the drug races like liquid fire through her body, but then everything in her settles as the narcotic does its job and takes the edge off.

“Tired?”

She hums an affirmative, barely able to fight against the tug of drug-induced, blissful unconsciousness.

Luke chuckles and Nicole can hear him adjust into a comfortable position in the chair, “Sleep. I’m sure it’ll be a little bit before the doctor comes and I’ll be here the whole time in case you need anything.”

Nicole manages to mumble a quiet, “Thanks.” before the world around her blinks out.

 

*

 

Quiet conversation wakes her some time later and it takes her a moment to place the voices. She blinks her eyes open quickly when she realizes it’s Dr. Croft and Luke speaking. Groaning, Nicole shifts uncomfortably in the bed, her body having gone stiff while she slept. She’s bleary as she manages to get the bed to start raising her into a sitting position, “What’s going on?”

Dr. Croft smiles at her and gestures to Luke, “I was just telling Detective Gagnon here the good news.” The other woman rotates the screen of the mobile workstation she’s standing at around so Nicole can see, “I’m happy to say that your brain scans all look good and you don’t appear to have any additional brain trauma to be worried about. In addition to that, the rest of your scans came back looking as good as can be expected for the injuries you have. Since there weren’t any unexpected results or concerns, I feel comfortable clearing you to go home today. You’ll have to wear a sling for about six to twelve weeks to allow your collarbone to heal before rehabilitation for it, and you’ll need to limit yourself and rest a lot for the next few weeks to allow your ribs to heal, but otherwise, you should make a full recovery. I’m going to prescribe you an antibiotic to help prevent infection in your cheekbone and some pain medication to help you manage your overall pain levels. I also want you to ice your shoulder, ribs, and face a few times a day for the next week or so to help with any swelling and inflammation that may happen. Sound good?”

Nicole smiles, “Sounds great, Doctor. Thank you.”

Nodding with a warm smile, the doctor twists the workstation back around as a knock at the door draws everyone’s attention. The nurse from earlier, Kelsey, comes in pushing a rolling cart with a bag and a few items on it and a big, burly security guard following her. 

Doctor Croft gestures for the two newcomers to come further into the room as she steps away from the workstation, “All right Nicole, I’m going to let Kelsey here take a last round of vitals, get your sling fitted, and do the last of the paperwork with you before we let you go, but is there anything I can clarify or any questions you have before I leave?”

“No, I think I’m okay. Thank you for all of your help.” Nicole sticks her good hand out and the other woman firmly shakes it.

“It’s been my pleasure. Take it easy, okay? If your pain gets worse, you have any unusual discoloration or swelling, redness of skin and/or it’s hot to the touch, your vision suddenly changes, shortness of breath, difficulty breathing, or anything that just doesn’t feel right, get yourself to a hospital right away. Don’t take any chances, you hear?”

“Loud and clear.” Nicole gives a cheeky mock salute that makes the doctor laugh.

Without further ado, the doctor leaves and Kelsey moves forward with a clipboard, “I just need you to sign these release forms for me and then we’ll get you dressed and your sling fitted.”

Taking the proffered clipboard, Nicole settles it in her lap and reads through the different pages quickly, signing them where necessary. She goes to hand it back to the nurse but the security guard steps forward and puts another form down on top of the others, “We secured your service weapon and badge when you were checked in. This is a release for us to return these items to you and you confirming that you’ve received them.”

Nicole nods and signs on the dotted lines as the security guard opens a lockbox on top of the rolling cart, removing her unloaded gun, loose magazine, and badge. Luke silently offers to take the items from the guard and the man hands them over without protest before leaving with a nod and a, “Have a good rest of your day” thrown over his shoulder.

“Detective, if you wouldn’t mind stepping outside for a moment?” The nurse holds up a clear bag, Nicole’s belongings and uniform folded up neatly inside it.

“Oh, yes. Of course.” Luke shoots Nicole a quick smile, “I’ll just be right outside when you’re ready.” He collects up the unicorn plush and balloon in addition to her gun and badge and beats a hasty retreat, drawing the curtain across the gap and closing the door behind himself.

Wasting no time, Kelsey helps Nicole get up from the bed and together, they manage to get her dressed with minimal pain. At least, it’s much less painful than when Wynonna tried to help her. 

The thought gives her pause as everything comes rushing back to her; in all the bustle of getting the scans done, sleeping, and then receiving the results, all of the shit she’s been through in the past couple of days had slipped to the back of her mind. It comes rushing back in that moment, though, and it threatens to knock her over like a kick to the gut. (Which is a feeling she knows intimately because it was part of the reason why she was _here_ in the first place.)

She wobbles a little on her feet and the nurse steadies her with a look of concern, “Everything all right, Miss Haught?”

Nicole nods robotically and tries to pull it together in front of the other woman. Compartmentalize. Put on a smile and keep it together. She was so close to going home, there was no way she was going to blow it now by giving them cause for concern, “Yeah, yes. Sorry. Just feelin’ a little weaker than I thought I was. I’m fine.”

Kelsey eyes her critically for a moment before seemingly accepting Nicole’s answer. She grabs the final item off the cart - an all black sling with red stitching -, and slings the strap over Nicole’s good shoulder before gently easing Nicole’s left arm into the sling. She adjusts the shoulder strap some before carefully encircling Nicole’s torso with another strap to immobilize her arm. “How does that feel? Is it aggravating your ribs at all?”

Nicole twists her torso some and tests the sling, “It’s a little awkward feeling, but it doesn’t hurt my ribs or shoulder. It should be good.”

The nurse smiles at her, “Excellent. You’re all set, then. The last thing you need to do is pick up your prescriptions at the in-house pharmacy.”

Returning the smile stiffly, Nicole runs her hand through her hair, “I will definitely make sure to do that. Thanks for everything.”

“Anytime. Get home safe.”

Luke chooses this moment to peek his head in and call out from behind the curtain, “Almost ready to go?”

Kelsey pulls the curtain back, startling Luke some, and Nicole nods, “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go by the pharmacy and get out of here.”

 

*

 

One of the first things Nicole does once she manages to (single-handedly) get into the front seat of Luke’s car is listen to the voicemail waiting for her on her phone. It’s Nedley and he’s worried about her because she hasn’t been answering and could she please come by his office when she’s able.

Sighing, she slides the phone back into her pocket and struggles with her seatbelt for several moments before triumphantly clicking it into place. She lets out a huff and flops back into the seat, exhausted by the effort.

Luke quirks an eyebrow at her as he turns the car on, “Everything okay over there?”

Nicole grunts and rests her head against the car frame beside the window, “As okay as it can be, I suppose.”

Humming noncommittally, Luke thankfully doesn’t pry further and turns the radio on low as he pulls out of the hospital parking lot to start them towards the highway leading out of the city. In just a few minutes, he has them merging with midday freeway traffic and headed north.

They’re about halfway to Purgatory - Nicole completely lost in her jumbled thoughts and emotions from the past few weeks/days/hours - when Luke breaks the silence between them, “You know… I actually have an ulterior motive for taking you back to Purgatory.”

Broken out of her stupor, Nicole shoots him a wary look, “And what would that be?”

“I’ve never been before and I’ve always wanted to visit. I hear there’s a bar where you can drink where Wyatt Earp drank.” Luke briefly takes his eyes off the road to smile and send her a teasing wink.

Nicole lets out an involuntary huff of laughter, “Yeah - it’s Shorty’s.”

“The place with the questionable beer taps and surprise wet t-shirt contests?” Luke’s smile widens some.

Laughing lightly, Nicole adjusts in her seat some to face him better, “Yup, that’s the one.”

“Sounds like a place I should check out. Perhaps I’ll stop by after I drop you at home.”

Nicole’s smile slides from her face, “About that…” It’s Luke’s turn to shoot _her_ a wary look but he doesn’t interrupt, merely encourages her to continue with a slight dip of his head, “If it’s not too much trouble for you, I was hopin’ you could take me by the Sheriff’s Department before dropping me at home? Sheriff Nedley wants to speak to me and I’d like to get that out of the way, if possible.”

Luke doesn’t even hesitate before nodding his head in acquiescence, “Of course - that’s not a problem at all.” He turns on the blinker of his car and slides into the lane that exits onto the long road leading into Purgatory, “In fact, is there anywhere else you need to go or anything else you need to get before I drop you at home?”

Nicole shakes her head, “No, I should be fine - just the Sheriff’s Department.”

“You got it.” Luke reaches out and turns off the radio with a small smile, “You’ll have to give me directions from here because I have no idea where I’m headed.”

“You’ll just take this road all the way into town; the department is right in the middle of Main Street. I’ll let you know when we get close.”

Luke nods and they lapse back into a companionable silence.

With everything that’s been going on and the circumstances that she keeps meeting him in, Nicole realizes she’s never really stopped to actually study Luke, so she takes the opportunity to surreptitiously do so as they cruise along.

The longer Nicole spends around Luke, the more flummoxed she becomes. Everything he’s done for her has been above and beyond the call of… well, anything that he is to her. It’s above the call of a good samaritan _and_ of a good cop. It’s even above and beyond the call of the tentative friendship that they seem to be forming; they still _barely_ know each other, after all.

She still doesn’t know _why_ he’s investing himself so much in her and her well-being, but… she’s thankful that he is. She’s not sure she _deserves_ his kindness, but at the moment, it seems to be the only thing that’s keeping her from completely falling apart. He’s protected her, supported her, reassured her, and looked after her with nothing in it for himself.

“Thank you.” Luke shoots her a quizzical look and she elaborates, “I just realized that I’ve never properly thanked you for everything that you’ve done.”

“Oh.” He lets out a small laugh, “It’s not a problem, really.”

“Oh, of course, how silly of me.” Nicole rolls her eyes, “You’ve only gone out of your way to be there as support for me - and to a lesser extent Wynonna - during an insanely tryin’ time, you’ve put in extra work to try and help us track down this psycho, you’ve protected me from my own family and subsequently have taken it upon yourself to check up on and be with me at the hospital, and then gone out of your way to take me home to a town that’s easily a two-hour round trip for you.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Luke lets out another laugh and shrugs, “it’s still not a problem.”

Nicole huffs out a laugh and shakes her head, “You’re somethin’ else.”

Luke winks and smiles at her but says nothing in return. Nicole rolls her eyes once more and leans her head back on the headrest and against the door frame again. They pass by the “Welcome to Purgatory: only 7 away!” sign and Nicole is both grateful that she’s almost home but terrified about what she might walk into with Nedley.

To distract herself, she decides she’s going to ask Luke about what he was going to tell her at the hospital, “So…”

“So?”

Nicole rolls her head against the headrest to look at him, “Why _are_ you being so helpful? We were interrupted before you could tell me.”

That same sad smile from before graces his features, “I’ve always wanted to help people; it’s the biggest reason that I wanted to be a cop. Before being a cop, though, I was in the armed forces. There, I met a man who’s name was Sam and he was kind of an asshole to everyone.” He lets out a quick laugh, “Well, not an asshole, per se - I guess aloof would be a better word. Anyway, he did his job and he did it really well, but he just… did _not_ get along with people. He never tried to connect with anyone, and when they reached out to him, he shut them down. He always seemed to have something to prove and if he wasn’t the best at something, he would get incredibly sullen and practice or study it until he _was_ the best. I found him on more than one occasion beating a punching bag until his knuckles bled. It was… _sad_. I felt for him but I didn’t want to push him about it.

Fast forward a few months and we ended up being assigned to the same squad. I mostly avoided him, but one night we were the only two in the gym and he was going at the punching bag as if it had personally attacked him. It was beyond his usual fervor and it scared me a little bit, but then I noticed that he was crying while doing it. At that point, I had to stop him; I simply couldn’t let him continue. So, I called out to him. He froze up and I had a split second thought that he might attack _me_ , but it passed quickly because he just… collapsed to the floor, sobbing like a small child. I went to him and sat beside him. I didn’t say anything at first. I just sat there until he calmed down some. When he finally did, I asked him what was wrong and he unloaded. I had never seen someone so defeated as he was right then and there.”

“What had happened?”

Luke sighs, “His mom had just died. She was the only person in his family that had accepted him when he came out. The rest of his family had disowned him, his father even going so far as threatening to kill him if he ever saw him again.” Nicole’s heart twists in agony for this man she’s never met, knowing that feeling a little too well herself. “I also found out that night that the reason why he never let anyone close to him was because he was afraid that if they found out he was gay, the same thing would happen to him there, too, and all he wanted to do was serve his country, so he pushed everyone away before that could happen.”

“That’s… that’s so sad.”

“Yeah, it was.” Luke smiles softly, a faraway look in his eye, “Things started to change after that, though. He and I started spending time together and I managed to convince him to stop shutting people out before giving them a chance. He flourished after that. Everybody loved him. He was kind and generous and smart. One of the most loyal people I’ve ever met. He was real… what do you kids call it these days?” He looks at her with a wry grin, “Ride-or-die?” 

Nicole scoffs and mutters under her breath, “ _I_ don’t say that.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “Anyway, after that, things were good. Really good. So good, in fact, that… we fell in love and things were perfect for a time. But then, 9/11 happened and suddenly we were being deployed to the Middle East to help the Americans.” Luke sighs heavily, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white. He relaxes them quickly, though, as he takes a deep breath, “We were a month away from going home when there was a firefight during a nightly patrol and our squad got split. It was absolute chaos. People were screaming, buildings were collapsing, and half the time, I didn’t know which way was up. Somehow, I made it out and back to base with another squad. I was worried out of my mind because I hadn’t seen him at all, but a little after we got back, he and the other half of our squad radioed in saying that they had made it back to the Humvee and were headed back. I couldn’t even begin to tell you the relief I felt.”

Nicole absentmindedly twists the ring on her right hand around and around, completely engrossed in the story, but fearing where she felt it was heading; the use of the past tense hadn’t slipped her notice, “It was short-lived… wasn’t it?”

Sighing, Luke nods, “Yeah. It was short-lived. They were only a few clicks away from base when they drove over an IED. It killed all of them.”

“Luke… I’m so sorry.” Nicole quickly wipes a few stray tears before they can escape too far.

Luke gives her a watery chuckle, “Me too. It was a long time ago, though, and I’ve learned to accept what happened and try to live my life the way he would have wanted me to: with kindness and compassion. He had a quote on his ribs that he got after he started to open up and be himself, and I used to say it to him and myself when things got to be too much.”

Nicole sniffs up a little, “What was it?”

Luke clears his throat and slows down as they start to enter the town limits, “ _‘_ _I shall pass through this world but once. Any good, therefore, that I can do or any kindness I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer it or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.’_ ”

“And that’s why you’re helping me?”

“Partly, yeah. Another part is, like I’ve said before, that I see a bit of myself in you and your situation. And then there’s another part of me that hopes that maybe if I help you, you’ll have better luck than I did and I can be a part of that.” Luke smiles sadly at her.

Nicole feels a rush of affection for the man beside her, “Thank you, Luke. For tellin’ me about Sam… and for everything else. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for the kindness you’ve shown me.”

Luke shrugs as they pull up to the first stoplight in town, “I don’t need you to repay me in anyway except to maybe pay it forward for someone else, if you get the chance.”

Nicole smiles gently, “I think I can manage that.”

“Then that’s all I ask.” Luke returns her smile.

Nicole gestures to the brick building a few blocks ahead and on their right, “That’s the station there.”

Nodding, Luke drives along until he finds an open parking spot a little ways down from the entry to the Sheriff’s Department. He kills the engine and turns to face her some, “Would you like me to come with? As moral support or anything?”

“No.” Nicole sends him a small, reassuring smile, “I think I’ll be okay, but thank you. I’ll be back soon.”

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Nicole sits there for a few seconds trying to get her heart rate under control and her emotions in check. Taking a fortifying breath, she pops open the door and carefully steps out.

The walk to the doors is daunting and seemingly neverendless. Step after step and they appear to be getting no closer until suddenly she blinks and she’s right there, standing in front of the large set of double doors.

It’s there that Nicole realizes she’s done a pretty good job of not seeing what she looks like in her current state because when she walks up to the doors of the Sheriff’s Department and sees her reflection staring back at her in the reflective glass, to say it’s a shock is an understatement.

Half-healed bruising from her broken nose clashes with her slightly swollen cheek - the skin pulled tight across her fractured cheekbone -, and deep, dark purple bruising along her jaw makes it obvious to anyone exactly where Wynonna landed her first punch. In addition to the injuries, she’s beginning to look quite haggard from her lack of sleep and eating; her skin is unnaturally pale and dark circles under her eyes accentuates the thinness starting to make itself known in her good cheek and neck. On top of that, the sling strapping her arm to her torso stands out like a sore thumb and her unkempt appearance is the cherry on top of a shit-acular cake. All in all, it paints a pretty alarming picture.

She takes it all in for a few minutes with an eye partially swollen shut and all she wants to do is cry. If the pain wasn’t already enough of a reminder, the visible manifestation is enough to bring everything flooding back.

A loud voice from inside the precinct grabs her attention before she can spiral any further, though, and she takes another deep, fortifying breath before remembering she was on a mission and that Luke was waiting for her. So, she opens the door and follows the sound.

_“I expected better from you - all of you! What is wrong with you people?! It’s bad enough that you’ve gone and attacked someone - a COP, no less - at someone else’s crime scene, but NICOLE?! She’s your FAMILY. She’s Waverly’s… you know! And another sister to you, Wynonna! Don’t you think you’ve lost enough of those to maybe try a little harder to hold onto this one!?”_

Nicole winces as she walks closer to Nedley’s office, the closed door doing nothing to dampen his voice. She avoids the eyes of everyone else in the bullpen as she moves towards the door.

 _“And the rest of you! What the hell were you thinking?! Why did none of you tell me Nicole was in the hospital?! Why am I just now finding out that my second-in-command, someone who’s like a--”_ Nicole hears Nedley sniffle and clear his throat gruffly, his voice returning at a lower volume, the door finally doing its job and somewhat muffling the sound, _“Like a daughter to me, is hurt? I thought she wasn’t answerin’ my calls because she needed space after what you found, not that she was incapable of doing so.”_

She pauses with her hand raised to the door, about to knock when he lets out a heavy sigh and she can picture the look of disappointment and way he’s shaking his head as he continues to speak, _“Get out of my sight; I can’t stand to look at any of you right now.”_

The sound of feet shuffling behind the door has Nicole taking a few steps back and to the side, rooting herself to that spot. It takes everything left in her to not just bolt from it all.

She wraps her good arm around her other arm and torso and stares intently out the windows as she hears the door open, several pairs of shoes coming to an abrupt halt in front of her.

“Nicole?” It’s Jeremy who speaks and the tentative yet hopeful way he says her name has her eyes watering something fierce. She blinks several times but refuses to look at them. She just… can’t. She can’t do it. Not right now.

They seem to get the hint pretty quickly (most likely helped along by the fact that Nedley is coming out of his office behind them asking what the hell was going on) and move as one towards the door leading to HQ.

“Jesus, Haught.”

Nicole finally diverts her attention away from the windows at Nedley’s shocked exclamation. He gapes at her from his doorway, eyes wide as they dart all over her body, taking in the various injuries and her general state of being.

She nods to him but can’t quite meet his eyes, “Sheriff.”

The two stand there silently, neither one sure what to say, before Nedley shakes his head and gestures for her to come into his office.

Nicole slowly shuffles forward and through the door, a wave of exhaustion hitting her as Nedley gently closes the door behind them. He passes by her and rounds his desk, gesturing to one of the chairs opposite his, “Go ahead and um… take a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”

Nodding, she carefully sinks into the seat, adjusting a few times until she can find a moderately comfortable position. Nedley takes a seat as well and simply studies her. They sit in silence for several moments and it’s beginning to make Nicole incredibly uncomfortable. All she wants to do is go home.

Finally, Nicole can’t take it anymore, “You uh, wanted to see me, sir?”

Nedley taps his finger slowly on the desk a few times before responding, “Yeah, I did. I wanted to… Christ, Nicole.” He leans back in his chair and pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply, “I wanted to see how you were holdin’ up. I had no idea that… well. I just had no idea.”

He gestures to all of her and Nicole can’t help but let out a humorless laugh, “I suppose it does become a moot question when you look at me, huh?”

The sheriff shakes his head and leans forward, “What the hell even happened?”

Anger - at herself and the others - surges up her throat as she replays the events in her head for the thousandth time. Now was not the time nor place, though, so she chokes it back down. (It goes down like a bitter pill, but it _does_ go down.) 

Despite not wanting to talk about it, she knows Nedley won’t let it drop, so Nicole shrugs with her good shoulder, “I poked the bear.” Nedley gives her a hard look and lets out a disgruntled sound. “What? I did. Wynonna and I fought about whether or not the body was Waverly’s and I intentionally goaded her to try and get her to come around. It didn’t work.”

Nedley sighs (again) and hangs his head forward, breathing deeply a few times before looking back up at her with pity in his eyes. She knows what that look means and what he’s going to say next and it makes her stomach bottom out. “I’ve seen the evidence and heard from the others…” His voice grows softer and gruffer, his eyes pleading with her as he half reaches across the desk, “You’ve got to let her go, Nicole. You’re tearing yourself apart trying to hold onto her. She’s gone. It’s time to face that.”

Ice slides down her spine and she fights the urge to throw up. If he’s saying this, if he (and the others) believe this, it means that the Purgatory Sheriff’s Department - that all of them - are giving up on Waverly. There would be no more search. No more tracking down of leads. No more time designated to her outside of her normal job duties to allow her to search. She’d have to give up and go back to doing her job full-time.

Shaking her head, Nicole sits up straight in her chair despite the protesting of her ribs and looks Nedley in the eye, “I can’t, sir. I can’t let her go.”

Nedley frowns and looks away, scratching at a spot on his desk before he looks at her again, his eyes shining a little more than usual,  “You have to. She’s gone and there’s nothin’ we can do about it except to move on with our lives. This town needs you. I need you and this department needs you. You’re a _damn_ fine cop and you’re going to make a damn fine Sheriff one day soon, but not if you keep running yourself into the ground, chasing ghosts. I know that you want to believe she’s still out there, but all the evidence is pointing in one direction and evidence doesn’t lie. She’s gone, Nicole, but you’re not and we need you here and now to do the job that you swore to do. After you’re back from medical leave and any additional time you may need to take, of course.”

Every word he speaks punches through Nicole until she’s left feeling like a thin shell of herself. Being a cop… that’s something that she’s wanted since she was a teenager. It’s given her purpose and a direction in life. It allows her to help people and make a difference in the world… but there’s no way that she’ll be able to do this job _and_ keep looking for Waverly, and Waverly was - _is_ \- everything to her.

“I quit.” Nicole’s surprised by the words as they slip past her lips, but they feel right in that moment.

Nedley’s eyes widen as he stares at her incredulously, “What?”

The words come to her without thinking, her heart pounding in her chest as she utters a few sentences that will completely change her life, “Sheriff, I love being a cop but… I love Waverly more. I can’t do this job while knowing that she’s still out there and I’m not doin’ everything I can to find her. And even if… even if I can’t find her in time, I have to know.” She breathes in deep, fighting a sob rising in her chest at the thought. Nicole wasn’t stupid; deep down, she knew the reality of the situation. Waverly’s chances were slim to none, Nicole acknowledged that, but it didn’t mean she accepted it, “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I gave up on her and later found out that there was still a chance I could have saved her. I can’t live with that possibility hangin’ over my head, and I can’t keep being pulled in two different directions - I’m no good to anyone that way. So, I quit.”

Nicole clumsily stands and starts to unholster her gun. Nedley stands up quickly and puts his hands out in front of him, “Now, wait a minute, Nicole. I know things are-- I know things are changing and difficult right now, but this is a big decision to be making right this second.”

“I know.” She slides her gun onto the desk in front of Nedley, then tosses her badge next to it, “I have to make it, though. I know what the evidence says but I also know she’s out there, sir. I can feel it in my bones and I will do anything to find her and bring her home. Even this. So, please. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

With that, Nicole turns on her heel without another word and leaves Nedley’s office. She closes the door carefully behind her and walks through the bullpen with her eyes straight forward, guilt and apprehension churning viciously in her gut. The only balm is the knowledge that this was the only choice Nicole had to focus her entire being on finding the woman she was desperately, helplessly, and hopelessly in love with.

She’s almost out of the bullpen when she sees Wynonna stand up from a chair near the front desk, a look of determination on her face.

“Haught, can we talk?”

Nicole ignores the request and keeps walking, trying to avoid the pitying looks being sent her way by everyone in the building, and out the doors, a, “Hey! Wait up a second!” following her out as the doors bang closed behind her.

A second later, the doors burst open and Nicole’s heart leaps into her throat.

She knew that it was inevitable she would have to talk to one or all of them soon, but she had been hoping that after their initial encounter earlier, she would be able to get in and out of there quick enough to avoid it _today_ . All she wanted to do was go home now; after all, she’d only gotten out of the hospital like two hours ago _and_ she just quit her dream job, for fuck’s sake.

She should have known better, though; it is Wynonna after all, and Wynonna waits for no man, woman, or supernatural creature when she wants something. Swallowing roughly, Nicole lets her steps slow to a stop. She can see Luke watching from a few cars down and he gestures to himself then her, asking if she needs him to come over. She shakes her head no and waits.

The heavy clopping of Wynonna’s boots ceases a few feet behind Nicole, but she can’t bring herself to turn around.

“Did you, um… get the unicorn? And, you know… my, um, note?”

“Yes.”

Several charged seconds pass before Wynonna hesitantly steps closer. “Nicole…”

Nicole’s shoulders tense up and she takes a sharp breath through her nose (partly from pain but mostly from anger).

“Nicole, could you please look at me? I… I wanted to say I’m sorry for-” Wynonna snorts out a short, derisive laugh lacking any sort of genuine humor, “so, so much, and I would like to say it to your face, if you’ll um… let me.”

They both need this conversation to happen - somewhere, in the logical part of her brain, Nicole knows that - but it doesn’t make any of this easier. It doesn’t mean that Nicole is ready to deal with what happened head-on, right here, right _now_.

Waverly would want her to do it, though. She would want the two of them to at least start to try and figure this out.

With that in mind, Nicole grits her teeth and steels herself, relaxing her shoulders and rounding them back as best she can, she turns to face the eldest Earp. She makes it as far as being able to look just over Wynonna’s shoulder but no further; she can’t make herself look directly at the brunette. Everything was still too raw and too much.

“Thank you. I know it… I know it can’t be easy for you to be anywhere near me right now, and I know I said I’d give you space - and I will! - but… I just wanted to let you know that what happened yesterday was… Well, I know that I’m not always… ugh.” Wynonna scrubs roughly at her face in frustration before blowing out a hard breath, “What I’m trying to say is, I was a total fucking shit ticket and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry and I know the guys are, too, and when you’re ready, they’d like to tell you that themselves, but we, uh… we thought it might be best if I said it first. I just… I needed you to hear me say it. Even if you can never forgive me, I needed you to know how sorry I am, Nicole.”

“Okay.” Nicole clears her throat and flexes her fingers a few times in the silence before letting out a heavy sigh, the tense anger that had been tightening her insides like an overstressed coil slips from her exhausted frame. She finally allows her eyes to properly shift to Wynonna’s and Nicole takes in the dark, deep-set circles under her startling blue eyes and the unusual gauntness of her features. It’s been less than twenty-four hours and Wynonna looks as emotionally wrung out and exhausted as Nicole feels. Murmuring quietly, Nicole follows up with, “I’m sorry, too. For everything I’ve done and been in the past few weeks, to all of you. I haven’t exactly been anything less than an absolute shit ticket, either.”

A hopeful look begins to light up Wynonna’s face, “So, we agree? We’ve all been shit tickets and we’re all sorry and we’re okay now?”

“No. We’re not.” Nicole sighs again, “We will be, I think, but… we’re not right now. I need to… process _all_ of-” she gesticulates broadly with her good arm, “of this before we can start to be okay again. Before _I_ can be okay again.” Nicole tiredly rubs at her temple, “I just think I need to be alone for a little while.”

Wynonna’s face drops instantly, “Oh. Uh, yeah. Okay, that um… yeah, if that’s what you need…” She trails off and looks away for a second, blinking rapidly before facing Nicole again. “Just… when you’re ready, we’ll be here.”

Nicole’s face softens slightly, “I know.”

“Good. I’m gonna… you know, um, go back inside now.” Wynonna nods once and throws a thumb over her shoulder at the doors awkwardly before turning on her heel quickly. She makes it all the way back to the doors, her hand on the handle, when she hesitates. Looking over her shoulder, Wynonna manages to catch Nicole’s eye again and the look is somewhat undecipherable as she stares at her. It’s a calculating look with too many emotions behind it for Nicole; she has to fight the urge to look away. “I know I may not be the best person for this to come from exactly, but… take care of yourself, Haughtstuff, and don’t do anything… _stupid_. Please.”

Nicole falters for only a moment at the implication before nodding. She wasn’t… she wasn’t there, but she could, objectively, understand why Wynonna would maybe think it. She wasn’t there, though. Right?

Wynonna gives her a ghost of a smile before disappearing back into the building. Nicole blinks a few times, unsettled by the thought that she could… or that they thought that she might. Honestly, it hadn’t even crossed her mind in any way, but…

A car door opens and Luke pops out and calls out to her, “You okay, Nicole?”

The question startles her out of her musing and her head whips around to face him. Heart pounding - for more than one reason - she calls back, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” He nods at her and slides back into the car while she starts to make her way back over to the passenger side.

She falls back into the passenger seat gracelessly and buckles up with a shaky hand, her thoughts racing around at a million miles an hour.

Luke starts the engine once again and shoots her a quick glance that she catches out of the corner of her eye. His face is painted with concern but all he asks is, “Where to from here?”

Nicole manages to rattle off the directions to her house despite how distracted she is by her own thoughts and she sags back into the seat, her whole body throbbing with intense pain now that the painkillers from the hospital are definitely wearing off.

The drive to her house takes no more than ten minutes with the light late afternoon traffic milling about the town. With little effort at all, Luke pulls into her driveway and throws the car into park.

They sit there quietly for some time before Luke speaks, “I… have some news for you that I thought you should know, but it’s not exactly good.”

Nicole barks out a humorless laugh, “Luke, no offense, but I kind of hate hearin’ news from you because it has literally never been good news.”

Luke’s face scrunches up for a second before shifting into a rueful smile, “You know what… that’s fair. I’m guessing you still want to hear it, though?”

“What can I say, I’m apparently a glutton for punishment.” She shifts uncomfortably in the car seat, her ribs and bad shoulder starting to burn from leaning against the door frame at an awkward angle for so long.

“The coroner’s report came across my desk late last night. That’s what I was reviewing on my phone at the hospital earlier.”

“And? What did it say?”

Pulling out his phone, Luke holds it out to her. She takes it from him and starts to scan the PDF that’s open on it as he speaks, “The victim was approximately 23 or 24 and showed signs of recent malnourishment and prolonged, confined captivity. She concluded that the victim most likely died due to strangulation. She also found signs of… pre- and post-mortem assault. Unfortunately, there were no… salvageable DNA samples to run through the system.”

Nicole clenches her jaw and pinches her eyes closed, blindly handing the phone back to him, unable to read the report any further. The pictures paired with his words were too much. All she could think as she looked at them was that it could _maybe_ be Waverly (if not this time, the next time) and the thought made her want to throw up, “Anything else?”

Carefully, Luke takes the phone from her and clears his throat, “In addition to the head and fingertips being removed, the body was… exsanguinated before being displayed, which means that we have no DNA evidence whatsoever to help identify the body, and since you and Deputy Earp disagree on her identity, we’re… at a standstill. As of now, this is officially a cold case. There’s nothing more we can do.”

Nicole clenches her good hand into a tight fist against her knee and breathes deeply through her nose. She knows that’s the only logical conclusion that Luke and his department would be able to come to, just like it was the only logical solution for Nedley to come to, but life was rarely logical, especially in Purgatory. None of the others seemed to understand that like Nicole did.

So, this was just another blow in a long list of them, but it would not weaken Nicole’s resolve. Opening her eyes, she stares directly at Luke, steely determination making her entire face hard, “Luke, I know it sounds crazy. I know it sounds like I’m delusional - like I’m in denial - but I am _sure_ that the woman you found isn’t Waverly. I _know_ it’s not her. I just bet my entire career on it and I would readily bet my life on it, too. She’s still out there and I _will_ find her, one way or another.”

Luke studies her with an almost palpable intensity, his gaze never wavering. He studies and studies as time ticks on, and Nicole refuses to look away. Finally, he sighs and shakes his head sadly, “I hope you’re right, Nicole… More than I have ever hoped for something in my life, I hope you’re right and that’s not her. I hope you find her and that you get the happy ending that I didn’t.”

Swallowing hard, Nicole nods and whispers, “Me too.”

Luke gives her sorrowful smile and holds out his hand, “Give me your phone.”

Nicole furrows her eyebrows but hands it over without protest. He taps at it for a few seconds and a moment later, she hears his phone buzz. “Now you have my number and I have yours.” He hands it back to her and she slips it back into her pocket as he speaks, “I swear to you that I’ll let you know if we learn something new, but only if you swear something to me in return.”

“Anything.”

He regards her carefully, “I need you to swear to take care of yourself. Sleep, eat, rest so your body heals… all of it. If you want to have any chance at finding her, you’re going to have to be at your best, Nicole.”

“I will.” (She won’t. Not if it takes her away from looking for Waverly.)

“Good.” Luke shoots her a cheeky grin as he reaches back into the back seat and drags her ‘Get Well Soon’ balloon to the front, holding it out to her, “Now, go have something to eat and get some sleep. I hate to tell you this, but you look like shit.”

Nicole rolls her eyes and gives a weary chuckle as she takes the balloon string and scoops up the handles to the bag of her belongings sitting on the floor, “Thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.” His smile softens and becomes more genuine as she opens the door and struggles out.

She goes to close the door but stops when he calls out to her, “Oh, and Nicole?” Leaning back into the car, she gives him a quizzical look. He taps at the phone in his pocket, “If you need anything at all - and I mean anything -, you know where to find me. Day or night.”

Another wave of affection and gratitude surge through her at the sheer kindness of this man, “I will. Get home safe, Luke.”

He gives her a halfhearted salute as she closes the door and walks to her door. She hears the car turn on as she unlocks her door and she turns around in the doorway to wave to him, bag and balloon awkwardly clutched in her hand, as he pulls out of her driveway.

Nicole watches his car disappear down the street and around the corner before stepping back into her house.

She lets go of the balloon as soon as she’s through the door and walks with purpose to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water, downing the whole thing in one go with a couple of her painkillers, and places the glass in the sink with a few other dirty dishes.

Walking upstairs, she clumsily snatches her laptop off of her bed with one hand and the charger from the floor before heading back down to her living room. 

Despite how bone tired she is, she sets up her laptop on the coffee table next to a stack of files related to the case and flops down on the couch, pulling up all the digital files she had compiled as well.

Though it couldn’t exactly be helped, she’d already been away too long as it was.

It had been five weeks and Waverly was still out there.

It was time to get back to the search.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...... Thoughts, feelings, reactions? I'd really love feedback on this one because I've been away from the story so long. I kind of felt like I may have lost their voices some?
> 
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> Oh, and on a total side note, I GOT INTO FREAKIN' FILM SCHOOL, Y'ALL!

**Author's Note:**

> Phew!
> 
> Thoughts, comments, criticisms, questions, and cookies all accepted below!


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